#(although even i can have a hard time w shakespeare still... and i have only 3 plays left once i finish this last scene in m4m)

[britneyshakespeare]

i'm very interested what ppl find to be the harder shakespeare plays and which they found to be easier. bc i was googling out of curiosity and i found a sparknotes article (link if you're curious) that ranked ten of the most commonly-read plays on difficulty and it put king lear kinda down low whereas it put julius caesar pretty high because of the politics/complicated conflicts. that kind of baffled me because julius caesar was the first tragedy i read outside of the classroom and i found it very approachable; it's one i often recommend to people trying to get into shakespeare because the plot is already familiar to most ppl and you can just enjoy the poetry and how shakespeare chooses to characterize these figures. on the other hand i read king lear a few years later in my shakespeare journey, and to be honest i still kind of have a hard time with lear. maybe i just don't connect with it on some level; i'm not sure. it's not a very tightly-organized play where the action is as centered as in the other tragedies like hamlet or macbeth. that's certainly a me thing and maybe that'll change with age. but i'm always a little surprised when i find someone's experience with the plays so much different than mine.

anyway if you're reading this feel free to reblog and tag or comment which shakespeare plays you found yourself falling into most naturally and which worlds you felt like you had to force yourself into. i'm interested in what ppl feel on this subject

[withasideofshakespeare]

CW: Discussion of SA in the context of Measure for Measure

Damn, I actually have much more to say about this than can be contained in the tags, so post time!

I actually like the handling of Claudio’s character in Measure for Measure. He’s far from perfect, but he’s also not a character I’ve ever been able to quite hate. I think it depends heavily on specifically how act 3, scene 1—or the scene where Isabella tells him about Angelo’s “deal” while he’s in prison—is played.

I could be biased by the productions I’ve seen, but the way I’ve always read it is that Claudio’s first reaction (“thou shalt not do it”) is his gut reaction and what he comes to believe again by the end of the scene. I do not think his later (cowardly) request that Isabella give in comes from misogyny or support of sexual assault as a concept but honestly and genuinely out of fear. He does not open with “please do it, my life is more important than your autonomy” but with “death is a fearful thing.” He’s afraid. That doesn’t make what he’s saying right or even excusable, but I think it explains where it’s coming from—just as Isabella’s confusing recounting of events earlier in the scene doesn’t seem to be designed to scare or hurt her brother but ends up as convoluted as it is because she’s upset and afraid of Angelo.

Isabella herself seems to understand how someone she genuinely seems to believe cares about and loves her could be driven to pressure her into agreeing to Angelo’s “deal” by fear of death. She tries to prepare him (although how can you possibly prepare someone to hear what she has to tell him?) and is upset (but perhaps not entirely surprised) by his response.

I don’t think I’d be so willing to be this sympathetic to Claudio if it weren’t for the fact that, after their argument is interrupted, he almost immediately wants to apologize. I suppose it could be argued that this only happens because of Vinciento’s lie that Angelo never meant it in the first place, but I don’t think that’s the case.

It seems to me that Claudio hears about the deal, refuses it on instinct (and believes in his refusal), scares himself by thinking too hard about his impending death, asks Isabella to go through with it out of fear, and regrets it immediately. I’ve always read his interjections between her “o faithless coward!” monologue as attempts to apologize but she—understandably upset, scared, and very, very angry—won’t hear him. I could be completely wrong about this, but I don’t think we’re meant to believe that Claudio wants Isabella to suffer or even that he’s willing to make her suffer to save himself but rather that his fear of death pushes him to suggest that she agree to Angelo’s terms before he returns to his earlier position, partially because he realizes that Isabella is absolutely right that he’s a faithless coward and partially because the thought of her actually going through with it upsets him as much as or more than the prospect of his own death.

When he says to Vinciento that he’s “so out of love with life that I will sue to be rid of it,” I think he means it. Between his shame, his impending death, and sharing Isabella’s discovery that there is always a new low for terrible people to stoop to has lost him all his faith in humanity.

This whole scene (and the whole play, honestly) is so strange and so ambiguous that I really didn’t like it at first and considered Measure for Measure my least favorite Shakespeare play for quite some time. I was forced to revisit it when we studied it in a Shakespeare class I was taking and that experience completely changed my mind about it. M4M is fascinating and probably has more reread value than most other Shakespeare plays! I still don’t know exactly what to make of it, especially since it leaves so much up in the air. We never get a reunion—happy or angry or bittersweet or otherwise—between Isabella and Claudio, we never get an answer to Vinciento’s proposal, Vinciento never clearly or satisfactorily explains what his motives are/were at all… the ending is intentionally unsatisfying. That definitely has a major impact on the play, but I can’t place my finger on what exactly it is or why it’s written that way? It’s a play full of fucked up people in fucked up relationships that drops us into their lives at a moment that seems to be the least forthcoming possible as to why they’re like that or how they got here. And somehow, Isabella and Claudio, despite having a blowout argument in which he suggests she let herself be assaulted to save his cowardly ass and she calls him a faithless coward and a traitor to the family while he awaits his imminent doom, are one of the less unhealthy duos in this play.

also feel free to put your reasoning below in comments or tags

edit: okay who else hit my special button *joking*

[just-another-blog-of-fluff]

A Difficult Question

Word count: 3000

Warnings: continued second-hand embarrassment? 😉 tickling, fluff as always

This is in response to a prompt from @sigyn-laufeyson0609 for a sequel to An Embarrassing Secret. Thanks for the idea friend! 😊 I snuck in a little soft Loki toward the end, just to switch things up a little!

* * *

You had avoided Loki for a solid week after he had revealed he knew about your blog. Although he didn’t seem to find it as strange as you’d have expected him to, you couldn’t help but feel a little exposed. Your writing wasn’t something you’d intended to show anyone, much less the tall, handsome, alien god who made you feel giddy every time he said your name.

Despite your concern that he would tell the others, no one else so much as breathed a word about your little secret. Either they were too kind to say anything for fear of embarrassing you, or he truly hadn’t told anyone else. You hoped it was the latter, although you supposed it couldn’t get any worse than Loki finding out.

You couldn’t avoid him forever, though. The first time you ran into him, other than those brief moments in passing where you ducked your head or turned the other way, you were sitting in the library again, this time actually reading something rather than typing on your laptop. (No way were you risking leaving that out in public again…) Loki had entered the library without your knowledge, having been engrossed in the novel you were reading while sitting in one of the comfortable armchairs. A sudden squeeze to your side alerted you to his presence, causing you to jolt and whip your head around to find the god smirking down at you. He shot you a wink before continuing on to browse the shelves.

Somehow, that brief interaction had eased your anxiety around him. You didn’t really want to stay away from him, after all. And it seemed like he was going to treat the whole situation as a game, which in a strange way made you feel better about the whole situation. You would much rather he use this little secret for some lighthearted flirting versus making a big show about it.

So, you went back to your usual routines, no longer trying to shy away from him. He rewarded you with the occasional poke to the side while passing by you in the hallway, or a quick pinch to the soft skin above your knee during movie night with the team. And, maybe, you started trying to provoke him a little more. Doing little irritating things like stealing the last cookie right from under his nose or changing the channel during one of the rare moments he was actually watching something on the television usually earned you a couple extra scribbles to the belly, or a fluttering of fingers to the neck.

It never lasted longer than a couple seconds at most, though. Most of the time that was plenty for you, just long enough to make your heart beat faster with adrenaline and for heat to prickle in your cheeks.

But not today.

No, today you were really in the mood to be tickled senseless. You were even making sarcastic comments to some of the other Avengers, hoping that someone might just decide they’d had enough of your sass. Although no one else knew you actually enjoyed it, everyone was aware that you were more ticklish than the average person. It was uncommon for the others to take advantage of it, but on rare occasions Thor or Tony would dig their fingers into your ribs to get you to stop talking if you were being particularly annoying. Today, though, no one was getting the hint.

You didn’t see Loki until later that evening, when you stumbled across him in the common room. He was alone, sitting on the couch with his back leaned up against the cushions and his feet up on the coffee table. He had a book in his hand, which he seemed pretty focused on, turning a page every few seconds as his eyes skimmed across the aging pages.

“You’re hovering again,” he observed suddenly, never once lifting his gaze from his book. Startled, you left your position from the doorway and entered the room, taking a seat on the other side of the couch.

“I’ll never understand how you know people are there without even seeing them,” you marveled.

“I’ve told you before – it’s impossible to sneak up on me.”

“Well maybe I’ll be the first someday.” You sat back against the couch, and silence blanketed the room, save for the occasional crinkling of the pages of Loki’s book as he continued to read. You realized that this would be the perfect opportunity to try to provoke the Asgardian to tickle you – you were alone in the common room, and he seemed to be in a state of focus where he would be pretty irritated if you broke his concentration.

You wanted to be subtle, though. You wouldn’t want him to think you were asking for it, after all, and as he was the only person who knew about your secret, you figured he would see through you pretty quickly if you tried too hard. So, you started simple by leaning forward and picking up the remote from the coffee table, turning on the television. You found a program he had previously expressed disinterest in and set the channel to that, settling back against the couch cushions, and turning up the volume.

Loki was silent despite all of this, so you stole a glance in his direction. His brow was furrowed a little, but his gaze was still fixed on the pages of his novel. Need to try harder, you thought to yourself. You cranked up the volume a little more and laughed a little extra loud at every joke. After trying this for a few minutes, you risked another glance in his direction.

Nothing. Not even a flinch.

You were starting to get a little desperate. The desire for someone to tickle you had settled itself like a flame in your belly, and it had been slowly building all day long. But you were too proud, too embarrassed to just come out and ask for it. You had to find another way.

You turned your body so you were leaning back against the arm of the couch and stretched your legs out across the couch cushions, your feet only inches away from Loki’s leg. This time, you didn’t even chance looking over at him, knowing he wouldn’t try anything if he thought you were expecting it. You sat still for a maddening amount of time without finding any success in your attempts. You stretched one leg out a little further and tapped his leg with your foot.

Nothing.

You tried again, this time with a little more force. At long last, the trickster looked up from his book to glare at you.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his tone flat.

“Uhh… no, sorry,” you replied quickly. He turned his attention back to his book, and you turned back to the TV, feeling a bit deflated. Your mood was still gnawing at your insides, though, and you weren’t quite ready to give up just yet.

You waited a few moments, trying to think of another way to get on his nerves. Maybe you just needed to try a different angle.

“So… watcha reading?” you inquired.

“Shakespeare,” he stated without looking up.

“Oh. That’s really old though, isn’t it?”

“’Old’ is a relative term. What you consider ‘old’ is actually quite new for someone my age.”

“Right. Because you’re old too,” you snickered. This got him to look up at you again finally.

“Pardon?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Well, like you said, ‘old’ is relative. So, compared to me, you’re really old.” You held his gaze, a triumphant grin threatening to spread across your face.

“Yes, I am ‘old’ compared to you I suppose. And yet, you still seem to like what you see.”

Your face flushed hot.

“I- well- that’s not… never mind,” you huffed, turning away from him once again. You heard his book snap shut, the cover making a small thumping sound as he set it down on the table.

“You seem a bit off today. Is there something with which you require assistance?” You glanced up to find his blue-green eyes fixed on you. It was difficult to read his expression – he wasn’t annoyed, but he wasn’t overtly amused, either.

“What? No. Why do you ask?”

“Well, you’re watching a television show you and I both know you hate, laughing loudly and turning the volume up, and just generally trying to capture my attention,” he listed. “If I didn’t know any better, I would assume you were trying to get me to tickle you.”

“W-what!? Pshh. That’s… that’s ridiculous,” you stammered, folding your arms defiantly across your chest. “Just because I don’t mind it doesn’t mean I would ask for it.”

“I see.” Loki sat back against the couch again, picking up his novel and reopening it to his bookmarked page. “So, you won’t mind if I go back to reading in peace, then?”

“Nope,” you affirmed, popping the P for emphasis. You leaned back into your seat once again, your arms still crossed. You changed the channel to another show you were more interested in so you could try to forget about this whole thing by distracting yourself.

Once again, the room fell silent, with the exception of the voices on the television and the flipping of Loki’s book pages. Your heart sank deeper in your chest in disappointment. You almost had him there – why did he have to go and ruin it by observing out loud that you wanted to be tickled?

“Honestly, y/n, you look as if someone put something sour in your drink,” Loki said finally, placing his book back on the coffee table.

��I’m fine,” you insisted flatly, refusing to look at him.

“I’ve told you before – if you want me to tickle you, all you have to do is ask.” You observed him in your peripheral vision, your stomach swooping at the mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“No,” you stated.

“No? No what? No, you don’t want me to tickle you? Or no, you refuse to ask?”

“Just… no.” You pulled your feet closer to your body, sitting crisscross on the couch with your arms still folded across your torso. Loki chuckled, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“You sound like a petulant child.”

“Do not!” you argued. Loki didn’t respond – he merely held his hand out at you, silently noting that you’d proven his point. You huffed and turned away from him, pretending to turn your focus back to the television.

“I know exactly what you’re trying to do, darling,” he sang, scooting closer to you on the couch. “You are hoping to provoke me sufficiently to make me retaliate and tickle you. You’ve been doing so since you saw me from the doorway. Don’t try to deny it.”

Heat was crawling up your neck into your cheeks again, and you squeezed your mouth shut, shaking your head defiantly. He shuffled a bit closer, now only inches away from you. “I’m sorry to tell you, dear, but you’re going to have to ask me properly.” You let out an involuntary groan at that, your heart pounding at the sheer proximity of the god beside you. “Use your words, darling. What is it that you want?”

Your resolve was breaking. This whole exchange was only enhancing your lee mood, and he’d made it clear that you wouldn’t get anything out of him without actually coming out and asking for it bluntly. It was difficult to form the words in your mouth.

“I… erm… could you… uh…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” he teased, his smirk broadening.

“Could you… would you, maybe… couldyoutickleme?” The words finally came tumbling out of your mouth, and as soon as you said it you found yourself pinned down on the couch, the god of mischief hovering over you with a victorious smirk on his face.

“Now, y/n, was that really so difficult?” Before you had the chance to tell him exactly how difficult it was, he cut you off by digging his fingers into your ribcage. He knew it was a weaker spot, drawing rambunctious laughter from you as you grasped his wrists. You weren’t really making any effort to try to push him away, of course, but it gave you something to do with your hands. “For someone who wanted this so badly, you’re making it exceedingly difficult with your incessant squirming.”

“I cahahan’t help ihihit!!” you exclaimed, arching your back as his fingers darted down to your belly. He wouldn’t give you the chance to get accustomed to one spot, quickly moving to scribble into your sides or drill his thumbs into your hips. It was exactly what you’d been hoping would happen all day today, and yet still you could barely handle it as ticklish shocks wracked through your body.

“Let’s see, now – where else are you ticklish? I don’t have your little narratives open for reference this time, so I suppose I’m going to have to find out for myself,” he pondered aloud, tone laced with mischief. “Ah! How about here?” Loki slipped his fingers under your arms, causing you to clamp them down to your sides. That didn’t stop him, though, continuing to vibrate his fingers into your uppermost ribs. The sensation made you shriek, throwing your head back and laughing with abandon.

“Nohoho Loki! Not there!” you cried, feebly pulling at his wrists as much as you could with your arms pressed to your sides.

“No? On the contrary, dear, I think it’s a perfectly effective spot.” You twisted involuntarily, accidentally rolling off the couch and face first onto the floor with a thud. Loki was at your side in a flash, kneeling beside you with a hand on your shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yehehes,” you giggled, heart fluttering at the idea that he was so concerned about you possibly being hurt. You turned to roll onto your back to look up at him, but he pressed down on your shoulder, holding you in place.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked ominously, his fingers moving to dig into your ribcage with renewed vigor. Not being able to see his hands was so much better worse. You tried desperately to roll onto your side but each time he would shift both hands to the newly exposed side, forcing you to roll back onto your stomach to protect the sensitive skin there. “Shall I ‘go in for the kill’ as they say?”

“No! Don’t! Anything but that!” you pleaded, although you both knew your heart wasn’t really in it.

“Sorry, darling, but as I recall, you did ask for this.” With that, his fingertips scribbled into that wretched spot on the back of your upper ribs. You kicked your feet against the floor in ticklish agony, your laughter pitching up an octave. Before long, your laughter grew silent, prompting him to ease up on you and scratch lightly at your sides. You turned to roll onto your back, and he allowed it this time, chuckling at your disheveled state. You took a moment to catch your breath, chest heaving with exertion, and you twitched occasionally when his fingertips found an extra sensitive spot on your side.

Loki’s fingers stilled against your sides, and you frowned up at him, feeling a sense of loss without his touch. He laughed heartily at that, a genuine smile spreading across his lips.

“Silly girl, was that not enough for you? Do you need me to continue?” Before waiting for your answer, he reached down and fluttered his fingers behind both knees. You squealed in surprise, giggles spilling from your lips. Loki sat on your shins to avoid any accidental kicks to the face, shifting to knead at the soft skin just above your knee on your inner thigh. You hadn’t anticipated just how unbearably ticklish that spot could be.

“Wait wait wahahait!! Stahahap!!” you cried, trying desperately to yank your legs out from under the Asgardian.

“Ah, I see I’ve identified a new– what do you call it? ‘Death spot’?”

Your laughter was growing hoarse, and Loki took this as his cue to let up again, getting up off your legs and kneeling beside you. You were exhausted, but the endorphins coursing through your veins made you feel giddy.

“That… that was mean,” you said breathlessly.

“I’ll remind you once again, you asked for it,” he retorted.

Loki stood up and offered you a hand to help you off the floor, which you gratefully accepted. You stood there awkwardly for a moment, not certain what to say. For the first time, you noticed Loki was also at a loss for words; his hand moved to the back of his neck, and he glanced around the room, uncertainty in his eyes.

On a whim (or maybe it was just the residual adrenaline, you’ll never know) you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around the bewildered god in front of you.

“Thanks, Loki,” you whispered into his shoulder. He stood frozen for a moment before finally sliding his arms around you as well, squeezing you tight.

“Anytime, love,” he replied, his voice low and gruff, softer than you’d ever heard him speak. You hugged him for another moment before releasing the trickster and hurrying off to your room, hoping to hide away before you could say anything to ruin things.

And, you can bet, you would be doing some more writing tonight.

Part 3: A Cozy Evening

[daisiesandshakes]

Good day my dear and first of all, let me thank you and praise you for your beautiful HC! I really enjoyed reading each one of them, and I'm grateful to have your posts filling my dashboard!🥰

If I may leave a request in your ask box... I would like to have a HC reaction of Le Comte, Shakespeare, and Theodorus with MC who gets all nervous and anxious with getting skinship from them for the first time (but eventually can handle it in time).

Thank you beforehand and do take your time and no rushing things! Stay safe and have a nice day~! 🍀✨

Hi sweetheart!

I am so honored to have you in my ask box 💝 thousand thanks for your praise, I am so happy you liked my HC!

Sorry it took a few days to write yours, and I really, really hope you enjoy it!

Here you go:

Ikevamp reactions to a MC who is afraid with skinshipping (Shakespeare, Theodorus & le Comte)

Shakespeare

At their introducing to each other William notices the hesitation as he reaches for her hand to blow a kiss on it. Might this dazzling, little dove be scared? Immediatly he interrupts his action and only bows with a warm smile on his handsome face to comfort her.

Shakespeare can read people very well and recognizes instantly that she gets scared when someone touches her directly. Dealing with his own fear (he's afraid of the dark) he knows how hard it can be to live with anxiety.

"Feareth nothing mine own fair maiden, I wouldst nev'r toucheth thee without p'rmission."

Enchanted by her sweet personality he's very eager to please and comfort her. When she's in town William tries to join her as much as possible, always walking on the side where people could touch her by accident. He would offer his arm when she needs to secure her steps and walk in front of her when it's crowdy (while glaring daggers) to guide her safely through.

Searching for ways to know her better Will arranges many, long walks at the Seine and dinner at a restaurant at a late hour when it's less crowded, chatting with her for hours. Seeking for possibilities to create a pleasantly warm and welcomed atmosphere for her, he asks her also for dinner at his Villa, reading out his newest script and teaching her old english.

Soon after William invites her to his rehearsals (he instructed his troupe members to avoid touching her), hoping that his kind and open troupe makes her feel more safe with the time. And to his greatest pleasure it seems to work. Everyone treats her like a precious, lost little sister and she starts to lose her inner tension around them.

It begins with small gestures, like helping the troupe members getting dressed with their costumes, passing over the props without flinching when they accidently touch her.

One evening she tells William how much she enjoyed the day with a bright smile while she lays her hand on his for a second. "I am so joyous to heareth those honest w'rds from thy fair lips" He turns his face away from her, so she couldn't glimpse the suspicious glistening in his eyes.

The day the play should start an actress has an accident and is not able to take part. Although she's got only a short performance, it presents an important twist in the play. Shakespeare is desperate and about to cancel the whole play, but then...

"I could do her part." MC's voice is faint but firm. Shakespeare's eyes grow wide with surprise. "Art thee sure about yond?"

She plasters a confident smile on her face. "Yes, I saw the rehearsals so many times, I could speak all lines backwards" she giggles, "and there is only one line for myself, so..."

William closes the gap between them, gazing deep in her eyes, frowning.

"T's not the line yond conc'rns me, I am sure thou art able to mast'r t. But the act'r hast to holdeth thee in his arms and I wonneth't confronteth thee with aught yond maketh thee feel uncomfortable."

She swallows hard but replies: "I can do it. When the embrace is soft and he won't press my body against his... I should go along with it. You all worked so hard for it, to see the play cancelled would hurt me much more than his arms around my waist."

The actor appears next to them "Princess, I swear I'll only hold you with the wings of a butterfly!"

With a warm and lovingly glare Shakespeare whispers "So t shouldst beest as thee wisheth. Thee can't imagineth what t means to me yond thee art willing to confronteth thy fears f'r our success."

As the stage play ends the audiance gives standing ovations. After every actor and at least William bows to the public, he rushes backstage for laudatary words. Spotting her his expression lightens up even more "Mine own muse, thee madeth t! Thee enchant'd ev'ryone and hath brought us most wondrous success!" he declares smiling. Laughing joyfully she hurries towards him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and Shakespeare freezes. "I am so, so happy for you Will! Everything went smoothly! Listen to the applause, Will! It seems it won't end!" As she lifts her head to meet his gaze he takes her delicate hand softly into his, and suddenly she realizes that she hugged him without any hesitation.

"Thee not feareth mine own toucheth anym're, little turtledove?" he asks barely audible.

Lost for words she only shakes her head, thightening the grip around his shoulder. Leading her hand slowly up to his face, Will  watches her reactions closely, ready to stop at any second when her features show displeasure. But the radiant expression in her eyes and the smile on her lips stays, and he nuzzles his cheek into her palm with a sigh. Resting her cheek against his chest she clings to him and both close their eyes, enjoying this special moment, knowing there are a lot more waiting for them to explore.

Theodorus

At first he's just annoyed by the "new, helpless hondje" that stays with them at the mansion. But after a few days he learns from a conversation between Vincent and her that she loves art as much as he does, what awakens his interest. Paying more attention to her  now he feels attracted to her charming personality and repartee (mostly when it comes to repel Arthur's salacious remarks).

In one of those moments he notices her unusual pale face and the tension in her body, trying to keep a distance between her and Arthur. Although his "threatening words" and his advances are supposed to be merely a jest, she looks like a cornered animal. It clicks in his mind.

Pulling Arthur back at his collar he growls "That's quite enough, get your besotted mess off her. That little hondje will only bark for me." A bit confused and wide eyed Arthur leaves you both alone.

Theo sighs. "You can't bear the touch of someone, am I right?" She didn't expect that he of all residents would recognize it first and in her surprise she only nods. Theo buzzes "Then stay around me and Vincent, that should be safe for you. I'll talk to the others, there is no point in hiding your anxiety. You shouldn't look over your shoulder in fear like a scared, helpless puppy everytime someone gets close to you."

Theo talks to the other residents the same day (threatens Arthur to beat the sh*t out of him if he dares to come too close to her again). From now on everybody still treats her kind and caring, but keeping a respectful distance.

Taking her right away everywhere with him he makes sure no one touches her, even by accident. In crowded places people make quickly room for them only due to his intimidating, beaming glare, ready to spread some black eyes if somebody should be so stupid to lay their filthy fingers on her.

She asks him why he's doing all that for her but Theo only replies "You can't bear it to be touched, I can't bear to have a sad, whining puppy around me. That's all."

But she realizes real soon that he is a very caring and soft person despite his harsh words.

Taking King out for a walk - "Hondje come with me. You need some fresh air and King likes you, so he might behave a bit when you come with us."

"You don't think you could go to town shopping without me, don't you? You need someone to take you by your leash. I'll come with you. We need more sirup either."

Sharing the love for art he'll even invite her to join him in his search for new talented painters. The more time they spend together, the more she seems to lose her anxiety around him, feeling comfortable in his presence. One evening both strall down the Seine he calls her near "Look at this picture hondje!" He stands close to the canvas, his left hand stroking over the frame. She rushes over to his right side and leans in, her shoulder touching his chest. "This is beautiful, Theo!"

"Yes, it is..." he mumbles into her hair, not sure if he's still talking about the picture, inhaling her sweet scent.

After they both discovered this talented painter Theo invites her the next evening into his favorite bar to celebrate this occasion.

It only takes a few drinks (although the bartender had the instruction to water her drinks down) and she's already tipsy. "Oi, hondje! We should leave now, I don't want to carry you back to the mansion!" She only giggles at this imagination and to his surprise no snubbing remark follows. Leaving the bar she stumbles soon, losing her balance. "Watch out, hondje!" He grabs her by her arm before she could fall to the floor. "Ouh, I feel dizzy Theo... would you mind to take a rest at this bench over there?" Nodding he immediatly leads her over, not letting go of her arm. As they sit down next to each other he mumbles "I hope it was okay to hold you at your arm, but I was afraid..."

She cuts him off, giving him a sweet smile "Nah, it was okay Theo. And at least you didn't have to carry me. I am not that drunk..." suddenly a hickup interrupts her. "Oooh nooo..." she whines.

Theo bursts into laughing "I see..." after a second she joins into his laughter. When the last giggle fades, she closes her eyes, resting her head at his shoulder. "I feel so tired all of a sudden."

"Don't mind. You can rest here with me for a while if you need to." he replies with an unusual soft voice. Very slowly he puts his arm around her, in case she wants to raise an objection. "I am not scared of your touch anymore." She murmurs, "I have to admit I'm really enjoying this right now." her words are almost inaudible while she nuzzles her face at his chest. Theo freezes in disbelief, an unknown warmth spreads through his entire body and his heart feels like bursting, relieved that she can't see the heat in his cheeks. Listening to her steady breathing he knows she fell asleep and he kisses her temple ever so slightly "So I have to carry you nevertheless." he mumbles with a grin. In the future he'd make sure no one ever gets the opportunity to touch her. But from now on his actions comprises a further reason.

Le Comte

He's living for centuries now and is able to read in people's heart almost like in an open book. Le Comte recognizes her reserved way when it comes to physical touch immediatly and invites her to his room for a talk. After he gives her a graceful and encouraging smile she tells him hesitantly about her anxiety, feeling embarressed to tell him about her inner demons.

"Ma cherie, don't feel ashamed. There's no reason for that. I'll ensure that everyone in the mansion respects your fears. And please don't hesitate to talk to me about anything that might concern you. Anytime."

This day all residents have a personal conversation with Le Comte in his room.

He will buy her several pair of exclusive leather gloves, so it might be easier for her to get along with her fear to be touched at her hands.

Knowing that public and crowded places are going hand in hand with the fear of being touched by accident he makes sure that almost everything her heart desires would be delivered into the mansion. A few days after her arrival she stumbles over a bunch of new dresses in her room and quite surprised she asks him how he knows her dress size. With slight flushed cheeks and avoiding her gaze he answers that he only has a good eye. (Liar... he observes her so intensly he could tell how many eyelashes her left eye has even when Sebas would wake him up from his deepest slumber...)

He will gladly take every opportunity talking to her, hoping that knowing each other better will reduce her tension and anxiety. Treating her like a princess with the utmost respect and warmth, she begins to relax in his presence. Strolling with Comte through the garden, taking tea in the gazebo, chatting about nothing and everything. Everytime they spend time together the space between them seems to melt a bit more.  

Taking a walk early through the garden together became a morning routine in the meantime and today it's warm and the sky bright blue. Suddenly King rushes playful towards them and jumps on her, trying to lick over her face. Totally caught offguard she loses her balance and stumbles backwards but le Comte immediatly catches her at the waist. "King, come here you stubborn beast!" Theo yells but King is already rushing further into the mansion. Theo apologizes quickly to them as he runs after his dog. "Are you hurt, ma cherie?" Concern lies in St.Germain's glance and voice. She giggles. "No, I am fine. King is such a cute "beast". Thank you for catching me Comte." At this moment he realizes that his arms are still around her and with an almost inaudible sigh he pulls his hands off her waist. "I am so glad nothing happened to you, ma belle." Then it comes to his mind, that she didn't complain at his touch. She didn't even flinch... pure happiness spreads through every nerve of his body and with a joyful smile on his lips they continue their walk.

A week later the weather ist still nice and warm, so she decides to visit the market place in town, getting some fresh air and maybe some fruits. The market is almost over as she arrives and less crowded. With a happy smile she studies the remaining goods as a salesman appears directly in front of her, eager to sell her one of his scarves. "A little dove like you  should wear a scalf, the wind still can be chilly..." Smiling politely she refuses, but the seller doesn't give up. "Here, this one matches your beautiful eyes" he goes on, his hands almost around her neck with the scarf. She freezes in panic, her face pale with shock as suddenly someone appears behind her, grasping the sellers'hands, holding them away from her neck. "Sir, what do you think you are doing, to harry a young lady like this?" Comte pushes the hands of the seller with one arm away, his other arm already protective around her shaking form. The burning anger in his eyes makes the salesman flee in panic without another word. Comte's gaze softens instantly as his eyes roam over her body with utmost concern. "Cherie, did he hurt you?" Still shaking she replies sobbing "No... It was o- only ..I was only scared he would touch me." Without thinking his grip around her tightens but in the next moment he takes a step away with a flustered expression on his graceful features "I'm begging your pardon, ma cherie, I shouldn't ... It wasn't my intention to embrace you without permission."

Shaking her head softly she closes the gap and leans back into his arms, her voice faint and pleading "Don't worry Comte, I am not scared of your touch anymore. If you don't mind, would you hold me a bit longer? It makes me feel safe." Stunned by her words he softly put his arms around her, his heart swelling with affection. As she rests her cheek against his chest with a sigh he whispers "I would so anything for you, ma cherie. And to hold you in my arms is my greatest pleasure." Slowly she lifts her chin to meet shiny golden eyes, in their dephts swirling so much love, adoration and yearning it takes her breath away. She answers his unspoken question with a lovingly smile.

[poirott]

This is the 2nd part of the "Riddle of the Spinx" interview with Death on the Nile cinematographer Haris Zambarloukos for British Cinematographer November 2020 issue (part 1 transcribed here). The full interview has now been released on the British Cinematographer website. I've included some of the text below!

In Part 2 Zambarloukos talks about shooting with the cast on location in Egypt and doing a particularly complex single shot of them on set, how they did the opening b&w sequence of young Poirot as a soldier, and built sets of Abu Simbel and the pyramids, the use of realtime footage projected on LED screens to make the studio sets look more realistic, what part of the Murder on the Orient Express set they recycled for Nile, etc.

Q: This was shot like Murder on the Orient Express at Longcross Studios with plates filmed on location in Egypt. Was it ever a possibility to shoot entirely on location?

Haris Zambarloukos: The issue is that 1934 Egypt barely exists today. For example, in the 1960s they moved the Abu Simbel temple 300 metres away so that the Aswan Dam wouldn't flood it. So, we built the entire four-storey high Abu Simbel at Longcross, complete with banks of water. The same with Giza and the Sphinx. In the 1930s the Nile went up to the feet of the Sphinx. Now all you see is the concrete expanse of Cairo.

Secondly, it's difficult to shoot complex shoots on a river while floating, taking all the cast down there and scheduling them, on top of ensuring everyone's safety on such a high-profile project.

Our whole design and research went into creating a set. We wanted to build a life-size boat inside and out; not to break it down into small sets but to shoot it as if we were on a boat. That’s a huge undertaking. Jim Clay built an amazing set to scale for the Karnak. It was so big we needed to build a temporary sound stage around it. We also wanted to use some real daylight when we got great sunlight in Longcross and use a little bit of water to basically film the boats carrying guests to the Karnak.

We recycled the railway from Orient and built the boat on that so we could wheel it in from outdoors to indoors. We built a very elaborate lighting rig that you could pull back and see the entire boat in one shot. You could step onto the boat and walk through all the rooms which were all lit for an analogue film f-stop. It was complicated and took most of our planning but I personally don't think you can tell the difference when we cut - even from a shot filmed outside in real sunlight juxtaposed with one in apparent sunlight on our sound stage. It's seamless because we took such great care and a detailed approach to our rig and construction.

In Orient you created some stylish direct overheads of the train carriage. You've told us of the Steadicam dance sequence in Nile. Were there other stylistic flourishes?

Inside the sound stage we went twice round the Karnak with the entire cast all choreographed for this one great reveal of a murder. It was really hard work to do. I understand why it was cut in the edit although they have kept a lot of other single long takes and there are lots of places where you see the whole cast in a single shot.

However difficult you might think setting up a long single is in terms of lighting and operating, it is equally, if not more difficult, to block a scene with multiple actors, keep the audience engaged and choreograph it in a way that is exciting and at the same time reveals things gradually. There's a lot of pressure on a lot of people in shots like that. Everyone's got to be on top of their game. Because we're all so interdependent, it's a domino effect in that the further you go in the take, the bigger the responsibility is for not getting it wrong whether that's the operator, focus puller, the actor saying the final line, the gaffer lighting a corner at just the right time. We always get excited about those shots but also very nervous.

You augmented the studio work with plates photographed on location in Egypt. Tell us about that.

We filmed on the Nile from a boat with a 14 8K Red camera array. We had a 360-degree bubble on top of the boat and two three-camera arrays pointing forwards and backwards as we travelled up and down. We specifically chose areas where modernity wasn’t present (or where it was, we removed it in post) and we also shot plates from the point of view of passengers onboard the Karnak.

VFX supervisor George Murphy edited the footage and stitched the plates together into an essentially very, very advanced virtual reality rig in which I could pan my camera. We did that before principal photography, so we never had to guess a month or so later what to put there. That’s a big help. Most shoots do their plate photography afterwards. It meant I could pretty much place the camera on any deck of the Karnak for any scene and know what the background would be.

As with Orient, did you play back footage realtime on LED screens outside the boat set?

I'd love to have done it live but on Orient we were only dealing with one wagon's windows at a time. It was still the biggest LED set-up ever done to that point, but the Karnak set is 20 time bigger than that. There aren't enough LED screens available – plus it would have been prohibitively expensive.

Instead, I went for a much larger version of a technique I'd used on Mamma Mia which was to hang back projection screens all around the boat – 200m in circumference, 15m high. We used Arri SkyPanels at a distance to create a sky or a part of the background. It could also be converted into a blue screen when we needed to. It meant that if I had a shot looking above the horizon line into the sky then it could be done in camera.

How confident were you of retaining colour and contrast from set to post?

I took stills on the recce and we used those to the create colours with this back projection for our skies. I take prints (not digital stills) so there is no misinterpretation. A still is a piece of paper that you can see. Once something is emailed across and seen by someone watching on another screen the information can get lost.

At the same time there were a lot more checks and balances put in place. We had a projector at Longcross and I watched dailies with (dailies colourist) Sam Spurgeon every lunchtime. With Kodak and Digital Orchard we have a very quick process to convert analogue filmmaking into digital by the next morning. Film is processed at night, they scan at 4am and by mid-morning those digital images are transferred to our dailies suite at Longcross. At lunch we’d watch it digitally projected, having been processed, scanned and graded at 2K.

I check that first and give notes to Sam and those get transferred onto our dailies which is what Ken, the editorial team, VFX and studio team sees. That's a major check. It's me with someone in a room, rather than me talking over the phone which is a big difference. I have a very good relationship with Goldcrest and (DI colourist) Rob Pizzey who also sees things along the way. I supervise the grade at the end. So, there's no need for anyone to interpret anything. It’s a collaboration in which we all look at the same images.

Did you shoot black and white for the opening scene or convert?

We shot colour for a couple of reasons. Although Kodak could manufacture BW 65, there is no lab in the world to processes it. Plus, there’s a certain skill to grading BW using colour negative and the added benefits are that that you can place a grey tone to a colour. For example, you could take red and decide it will look a very dark grey or a light grey, so you get very detailed tones. Ultimately, I get much more control in the DI this way. They were very monochromatic battlefield sets and costumes so it was quite limited in this case. The Germans wore grey and the Belgians wore dark blue and it’s a dark sooty gas-filled battlefield but you could manipulate the blue in the sky a little bit more and certainly manipulate the intensity of people’s eyes - especially if they had blue eyes (which Branagh does).

How did you handle sound sync?

To do sound sync work on Orient we used sound cameras that are twice as heavy as high-speed cameras, so I wanted to develop soundproof housing (blimp) for our camera on Nile. I took the problem to Stuart Heath at BGI Supplies at Longcross. They've made all sorts of props for us before, from Cinderella’s carriage to the furniture on Nile. I told him that I needed it really quickly. All my other attempts had failed. Stuart suggested using a material that they soundproof the interior of helicopters with. He brought a draper in who basically measured the camera as if making a dinner suit for it and quickly made a couple of versions for us. It was very effective and really opened up the Steadicam possibility for us. All from just wandering onto a workshop on the lot and asking a friend if he had any ideas about how to achieve something. In the old days that’s what everyone did – the answer was somewhere on the lot.

Finally, after six films and 14 years working with Ken Branagh, could you tell us what makes your relationship tick?

It is a fantastic friendship. To begin with you must be able to maintain a professional friendship with any cast and crew which is all about doing your very best and understanding where you have common aesthetics and shared thoughts about humanity. Ask what kind of world you want this to be, because that will come through in your filmmaking.

As you say, I've spent years working in close proximity to Ken and we have a mutual affection and admiration for each other otherwise we wouldn't be doing it for so long. He is relentless in pursuit of perfection and in his advancement of storytelling and is inspiring to work with. It means you have to be as relentless in your area of craft.

I think we both like making the same kinds of films. I'm a Greek Cypriot who grew up with Greek myth and tragedy. Ken's love of Shakespeare is legendary. You can easily see the lineage between Aeschylus (the ancient Greek creator of tragedy) that goes all the way to Shakespeare. Perhaps that appreciation for the human condition in its best and worst forms is the tie that binds.

Photo credit: Rob Youngson

Source: britishcinematographer.co.uk - February 4 2021

[tsuzuruchipalace]

A3! Mixed Troupe Fan Play: Hamlet

As a self-proclaimed lit nerd, I would love it if we had more than one adaption of a Shakespeare play. Because Hamlet was my favorite required reading from high school (also because I genuinely like this play), I decided to make a fan cast for Hamlet. It’s considered Shakespeare’s greatest work and my personal favorite of his library, and I think Mankai would do an awesome job adapting it.

Since I don’t have the time or creativity to twist Hamlet in a dramatic way, my casting is based off the original story and script. I had a lot of fun deciding who should be casted as who.

However, I did have trouble deciding which role would be the second lead. I settled on Horatio because I felt like my casting for Hamlet and Horatio would create an interesting dynamic and event story.

Casting:

Juza as Hamlet

Chikage as Horatio

Sakyo as Claudius

Citron as Gertrude

Tenma as Polonius

Yuki as Ophelia

Tsumugi as Laertes

Azuma as Ghost

Taichi as Rosencrantz

Hisoka as Guildenstern

Misumi as Gravedigger

Masumi as Fortinbras

Plot:

Mankai Company decides to adapt another play by Shakespeare; this time, it’s the great tragedy of the Prince of Denmark, Hamlet. With a larger cast than per usual, the entire company is active in helping make this show a rousing success. Ambitions run high, and tension runs higher. Our leads, Juza and Chikage, have trouble working together as they figure out the nuances of their characters and each other.

may update this if i feel inspired to

discussion about my thought process with the casting and story under the cut

Disclaimer: I have not reread Hamlet in a while, so some of my interpretations of the play’s characters may be off/not align with yours.

-- My bias may be showing when I cast Juza as Hamlet, but I think it could be a great complex character for him to play. There’s a lot of great experience and exploration of acting with Hamlet’s character that I think Juza would benefit from. Also, I just like seeing Juza as the protagonist.

-- Horatio was hard for me to cast, as I juggled between many actors to decide. I think this was the last role I cast. I eventually settled on Chikage, which may be an unexpected choice. I think the character work behind the scenes could make this casting interesting. The dynamic between Hamlet and Horatio is very close and trusting, so putting the most secretive person and the most honest-to-his-feelings person together would create great character building moments.

I casted these two w/o thinking about the relationship between them. So when I needed to come up with a story, I had to analyze them individually to imagine how they would interact, since they don’t often do in canon.

When I began to think about Juza and Chikage and their relationship as characters, I began to see them as opposites. Although not perfect foils, they offer great tension with the differences of their personalities. Chikage is very closed off emotionally while Juza is very honest with himself and his feelings. Chikage’s goal originally revolved around revenge, an outward punishing of others. Juza’s goal revolves around redemption, an inward cleansing of himself. Chikage purposely fucks around with people and Juza may be too earnest to see past it sometimes. I think they would have trouble communicating, which is a really compelling relationship dynamic to have.

But they both trust deeply within their circle and have a hard time accepting themselves. I think this comparison could lend well into helping them flesh out and understand the dynamic of their characters, individually and together. I would go into that, but this is already getting lengthy so I’ll stop for now.

Honestly, in canon, I have no idea if Tsuzuru and/or the Director would ever put these two as leads together or in these roles, but I had a fun time with it, so that’s all the validation I need.

-- Sakyo and Citron were really easy. Sakyo does have a shitty step-dad kinda vibe to him sometimes. And Citron is usually typecast as royalty, but this time let’s make him a passive queen instead of an asshole king. Spice things up a bit.

-- I see Polonius as an incompetent fuck, so having Tenma play up the comedy with his character by showing how pathetic he is would be funny in a sad, deadbeat way. Tenma wants to play more diverse roles, and I think this could be a new and fun one for him to try.

-- I usually don’t want to automatically cast Yuki as the female role because I feel like that’s an easy out and limits the other actors’ potential and roles. BUT in this case, I think Yuki would make a great Ophelia. Often, Yuki plays strong female roles that have a narrative of having to beat the unfair conditions they are in because of their gender, even if usually nothing is ever resolved from that narrative but I digress. However, Ophelia has a much more tragic and less uplifting narrative, which is different for Yuki. But I believe he can pull it off while still making Ophelia a solid and real character. Also, it’d be funny to see Tenma play Yuki’s dad.

-- The idea to cast Tsumugi as Laertes came to me like the first man to hear the voice of god. I love seeing Tsumugi in a variety of roles, and I think A3! does a great job giving him diverse roles. Laertes would be another great addition to his repertoire, and Tsumugi would pull if off amazingly. I can literally envision it. To me, Laertes shines in the later acts and has a really compelling character. Also, I would love to see Juza and Tsumugi spare.

-- Azuma was another easy casting. I feel bad typecasting the actors because I feel like that’s lazy and makes their role an afterthought, but Azuma really has that ghostly vibe that... well, duh. It works. I don’t remember if the original ghost of King Hamlet exuded vengeance, but that would be an interesting twist for Azuma’s character. Vengeful and angry, but still ghostly and wistful. I don’t think we’ve seen Azuma play a role like that yet? Then again, I’ve only read the plays in the worldwide server.

-- The rest of the characters are more arbitrary and just because I wanted to fill out the cast. Taichi as Rosencrantz is an, okay well yeah duh. But I’d wanted to see Hisoka have a more playful role than usual, like Guildenstern. Misumi would make a cool Gravedigger. That scene was always unnerving to me, and I think he could pull off the tone just right. And Masumi as Fortinbras is mostly because I like Masumi in his Julius costume and I could see him showing up in that outfit at the end of the play. Royalty Masumi is fun.

Anddddddddd that’s the thought process behind my casting!

If you’ve made it this far, that’s so much for reading through my rambling! I really like doing these fancasts and I hope at least one other person does lol.

[emachinescat]

By Night My Mind

A Tales of Arcadia: Wizards Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat ​

@febuwhump​ day 19 - sleep deprivation 

Summary: Sequel to “Dying Is Easy.”  In the aftermath of the final battle against the Arcane Order, Douxie is plagued by guilt and nightmares about his part in Merlin’s death, and decides that he’s better off staying awake, which his battered and weary body does not take well.  Written for Febuwhump on Tumblr. Day 19: sleep deprivation

Characters: Douxie, Archie, Jim, Claire

Words: 4,719

TW: None

Notes: Sequel to “Dying Is Easy, Living (Without You) Is Harder,” and set in the same universe as “That I Could Fear a Door” and “Lest Back that Awful Door Should Spring.”  In this version of events, Douxie doesn’t have to leave with Nari, and is trying to adjust back to life in Arcadia after the events of “Dying Is Easy.”

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

- From “Sonnet 27” by William Shakespeare

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,

The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;

But then begins a journey in my head

To work my mind, when body’s work’s expired…

Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,

For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.

The night after his battle with the Arcane Order, Douxie slept more soundly than he could ever remember.  His near-death experience had left him with a litany of aches, pains, cuts, bruises, a couple of fractured ribs and a lot of unanswered questions - it should have been impossible for him to survive a fall from that height; every bone in his body should have been broken, and no one knew how he was still alive - but still he slept, his final meeting with Merlin and the restored Morgana fresh on his mind and a soothing balm through the night.

The trouble came the day after, when he nodded off while curled up on his couch with The Sword in the Stone distracting him from some unpleasant thoughts and a nagging guilt that had begun to crop up, slowly but steadily, over the course of his day.  No one knew that the hokey, mostly plotless Disney movie was his favorite, and he preferred to keep it that way.  It had always amused him, Merlin as a bit of a crackpot and Arthur a poor young boy running around after a magical master who only halfway knew what he was doing at any given time - it reminded him of himself, and of home.

But he was exhausted from the muscle relaxer he’d been prescribed when Jim and Claire had practically kidnapped him and forced him to let Jim’s mom, a doctor, examine him, and he fell asleep right when Mad Madam Mim issued her challenge to Merlin and for a few wonderful moments, there was nothing, and he could rest.

He woke with a yell only minutes later (Merlin was now turning into a germ to outwit the atrocious purple dragon), fighting desperately against the effects of the muscle relaxers that were already trying to pull him under again.  He couldn’t even remember what it was that woke him, what he’d seen in his dreams, but it didn’t matter.  Whatever it was - and he had a good idea - it left him trembling, short of breath, on the verge of tears.

“Douxie?”

Archie padded into the room and hopped up on the couch beside his friend, eyes full of concern behind his glasses.

“I’m fine, Archie.  Just a nightmare.”

“I miss him, too,” the cat said solemnly, reflective gaze compassionate and sad as he observed his human friend.  “Perhaps we should talk--”

“Talking won’t bring him back,” Douxie snapped, and Archie flinched back the tiniest amount and fell silent, looking more like a chastised pet than Douxie had ever seen him.  The wizard sighed.  “I’m sorry, Archie.  I just don’t want to talk, that's all.”  He rubbed the furry head with distracted affection, then moved from the couch and pulled up a hard-backed kitchen chair, and sat in that.  

He didn’t feel like sleeping so much anymore, even if the burning of his eyes told him otherwise.  He turned off the movie - it suddenly held no appeal.  The Disney+ main screen took its place, and he clicked on something at random.  He was so caught up in his bleak mood and dark thoughts that he didn’t even realize for a solid ten minutes that he was watching Hannah Montana. 

***

Dr. Lake called him at five and asked how the muscle relaxers were treating him - “Are they keeping the pain and back spasms at bay? Are you taking them with food? Have you been able to rest?” Douxie placated her with lies on all accounts, but the truth was that he was sore even with the medicine, he hadn't taken it with food because he couldn't bring himself to eat, and every time he closed his eyes he felt the unfathomable pain of being run through all over again, or, worse, he saw Merlin kneeling over him, sacrificing his life for Douxie’s stupid mistake, and that wasn’t worth any benefits rest gave him.

***

He did finally fall asleep that night around eleven, not by choice - he’d been forced to take another muscle relaxer when the pain in his ribs and back crescendoed to nearly unbearable levels, and the drug worked quickly despite his best efforts to stay awake.

The dream was, at the beginning, not good, but not nightmare material, either.  He found he was reliving his final conversation with Merlin, in that Nowhere between life and death where his mentor had waited patiently for him to arrive before moving on at last, after 900 long years.  

At first the conversation was much the same as it had been, and Douxie found a thread of comfort in Merlin’s reassurances - I told you, my boy, I chose to die for you.  I want no part of a world without you in it.  And I am happy, reunited with my dear friend and first apprentice, ready to step into the next chapter.  

But this time, right before Merlin stepped through the door into the light, he turned and contemplated his grieving apprentice with a cold look.  “Although,” he said, accusation seeping from every word, “it is true that I wouldn’t have had to give my life for you if you hadn’t bungled things up so much in the first place.”

Douxie felt his heart stutter to a stop and he stammered, “W-what?”

“Couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” Merlin hissed, his eyes flashing dangerously.  “It was my fight.  And if you were going to interfere, why not cast some other spell that kept us both out of harm’s way?”

Floundering for any purchase on solid ground, Douxie finally managed, “I didn’t know how - the magic, it just responded -”

“You were always good at making excuses, Hisirdoux,” the wizard snarled.  “The faith I thought I had in your abilities was obviously misplaced.”  A terrible, eternal beat of silence.  Then - “Perhaps I should have let you die after all.  It’s no more than you deserve.”

“But Master -”

“I’m done with you.”  With a dismissive wave of his arm, Merlin stomped into the waiting light of the unknown, muttering, “Might as well enjoy your life since you ended mine to save it.”

And Douxie was left alone in the between-space, and the tower crumbled around him in time with his soul, and he let it bury him, book after book crashing on his head, and he hoped that this time, he wouldn’t wake up at all….

It’s all my fault.

He woke up crying, not screaming, and shortly after he flushed the muscle relaxers while Archie wasn’t looking (the wise familiar would most certainly have not approved), splashed his face with icy water, and grabbed his well-read copy of The Catcher in the Rye and forced his eyes across the familiar words in a vain attempt to distract him from the loathing and pain and guilt that screamed through his aching head and pounded out a tattoo of shame that persisted through the lonely, sleepless night.

***

Two days later, he returned to work, and his manager stared openly at his disheveled appearance.  Douxie had slept a grand total of four hours since he’d tossed the pills, and those had been intermittent catnaps that his body had forced him to take.  Eventually, though the thought of using his magic made his skin crawl now after what it had done to Merlin, he conjured a simple alarm clock that sensed when he fell asleep and screeched metal core at him every time it happened.

He knew he looked bad - he’d seen a glimpse of himself in the mirror before he left.  His face was thinner than usual, pinched in pain that tylenol just wasn’t cutting through - but anything else would make him fall asleep.  Although all of the bruising was centralized around his back and chest and invisible beneath his rumpled t-shirt, it looked like he’d been punched in both eyes, with the dark, puffy circles accenting each one.  He’d been too out of it to properly bother with styling his hair, or brushing it, if he were honest, and he was pretty sure he was wearing two different combat boots.  They were both black, though, so maybe no one would notice.  He didn’t have the energy to care if they did.

“Damn,” said his manager, Jeff.  “I think you came back from sick leave a little too soon, man.  You look awful.”

Douxie shrugged, not trusting himself to speak.  He’d been screaming from one emotion to the next with no warning ever since he woke up, and even though he felt rather empty at the moment, he knew it was distinctly possible that if he opened his mouth he might start crying against his will.

“I think you should go back home.  Have you seen a doctor?”

Douxie grunted in affirmation.  

“Go home until you’re feeling better, Douxie.  Seriously, man, you have to take care of yourself.”

The hollowness inside of him filled with irritation at the dismissal.  “I’m fine,” he growled sullenly.  

His manager blinked, surprised at the tone.  Douxie had always been a model employee, respectful and fun to be around.  

“You’re going to scare customers away,” Jeff insisted.  “You can’t wait tables like this - people will be afraid you’ll give them whatever plague you’ve come down with.”

With a snarl, Douxie spat, “Why can’t things just go back to normal?”  He stormed out before his bewildered manager could answer.

***

The next afternoon, someone knocked at his door.  He cast a suspicious side-eye at Archie, who sat innocently on the table, tail tucked contritely around his carefully arranged paws as he studied Merlin’s magic book, the one Douxie had refused to touch since returning home.  Archie had disappeared for a short time earlier, flapping out of the window in dragon form and saying that he was just going for a short flight to clear his head.  Now Douxie wondered if the dragon had actually gone out and told someone of his worries about his wizard familiar.  After all, Archie had been on his case constantly over the past few days, practically begging his friend to sleep, to eat, to talk, and Douxie always ignored him and had even yelled at him on a couple of occasions.  

Douxie was picking at a bowl of dragon-popped popcorn listlessly, the small desire for food that he’d felt earlier having been immediately usurped by a fresh waves of undulating guilt and devastating emptiness.  A smattering of empty cans - soda and energy drinks - lay crumpled on the coffee table around Archie, and the dregs of his latest cup of coffee were still warm.  He seriously considered just ignoring the knocking until whoever it was went away - they’d promised to give him some time to recover, after all - but then they started ringing the doorbell and his head already hurt so badly it made his stomach curdle, so he made the tremendous journey to his feet.  He swayed, his limbs like pool noodles, head swimming with dizziness at the effort to stay upright.

Each step toward the door - that incessant, too-loud doorbell was going to drive him mad! - was a hard-fought battle, and by the time his hand reached for the doorknob, he felt like he was going to be sick, and his vision was blurred, and he was having trouble remembering why he had gotten up in the first place.

Then the doorbell rang again, and a muffled voice called his name from the other side of the door, and he remembered.

It was Claire and Jim.  The moment they laid eyes on him, their expressions went from concerned to relieved to something Douxie couldn’t quite identify but that might have been a kind of shock, or even horror.

“Douxie!” Claire half-shouted, and Douxie fought the urge to cover his ears as her voice, normally pleasant and soothing, tried its hardest to split his head in two.  “What happened?”

Douxie squinted at her in confusion.  Shouldn’t she know what happened?  She had been there, for parts of it, at least.  She’d heard about the rest.  He could barely stand up straight anymore, and his eyes started closing of their own accord.  This had happened so many times before, but as soon as sleep started to stake its claim, the memories and nightmares and things that might have been memories followed, mixing up into a blur that he couldn’t navigate, and then his magic alarm clock would blare, and he would wake up, and drink another Mountain Dew or Monster or cup of coffee, and try to do something to take his mind off of sleep and pain and Merlin.  Then the whole process would start over again.

This time, it didn’t look like he would make it back to the couch before he passed out - the arduous trek to the front door had drained him, made him breathless and dizzy - and he was toppling forward, trying to force himself to wake up, battling sleep and the panic of sleep, or worse, hitting his head and being knocked out and forced to sleep.

“Whoa!”  He startled awake to a hazy reality as Jim caught his stumbling form and propped him up the best that he could given how much taller Douxie was than him.  Distantly, Douxie heard, “Claire, help me get him inside.”

And then Claire slung his other arm over her shoulder and they half-supported, half-dragged him back into his house, and though his eyes were on his couch, he realized that they were taking him past it, further into the house, in the direction of his bedroom, and he began to struggle against them.

“No, not there,” he gasped, knowing that if he had a mattress under his body and a soft pillow under his bed, there would be no way he could resist the siren call of sleep.  He’d been avoiding his bed for days now.

But they didn’t listen, and soon they helped ease him onto his bed, perpetually unmade, and he scrambled up clumsily into a facsimile of a sitting position and shook his head to clear it of the gummy cobwebs that infested it.  Archie, having followed the trio closely, literally hovering right over their shoulders, perched on Douxie’s desk and kept his lamp-lit eyes on his human, watchful and protective.  

As soon as their charge was no longer in any immediate danger of hurting himself, Jim pulled out his cell phone.  “I’m calling my mom.”

“No, no,” Douxie said, forcing his burning eyes open as far as he could and making a feeble swipe at the phone in his friend’s hand.  Jim hesitated, his thumb hovering over the send button.  

“You are obviously not feeling well,” he said.  “And you look sick.  You need to see a doctor before --”

“I’m not sick,” Douxie explained, trying to project an air of wellness that he couldn’t even muster within himself.  At their doubtful looks, he clarified, “Just a little tired.”

“You don’t look like you’ve slept in a month!” Claire exclaimed worriedly.  “We promised to give you a few days to yourself to heal and rest, not turn into one of the living dead!”

“It’s only been a few days,” Douxie assured her.  “I just need to sort some things out in my head, that’s all.  Then I’ll sleep.”  It was a lie, but he needed them to believe it, needed them to go home and go on with their lives and not sit here worrying about him - or worse, try to make him sleep.  He appreciated their concern, and was touched that he had friends who cared so much about his well-being, but they had more important things to deal with - Jim’s transition from being half-troll to enslaved hulk troll to fully human and the loss of his amulet, for starters.  And he had made this mess on his own, this was his fault, so if his punishment was to never sleep again, it should be his to bear alone.  He didn’t deserve to be worried about, he suddenly realized - that was the crux of why he wanted to be left alone so badly.

“A few days without sleep will wreck you, man,” Jim said seriously, his blue eyes offering nothing but concern.  He did pocket his phone again, though, for which Douxie heaved a sigh of relief.  “Trust me, I know.”

Douxie didn’t know the details, but he had heard stories from Claire and Toby about how Jim had, over a year ago, willingly gone into the Darklands, a hellish nightmare-scape beneath the skin of this world, and Claire had told, her own eyes haunted, of how he had come back not himself, traumatized, and how he’d barely slept nor ate and had become a shell of his former self.  

So he asked, voice far more unsure than he felt comfortable with, “How did you move on?  How did you get back to normal?”

He hated himself for sounding so weak.  He’d lived 701 years.  He’d lost people he cared about so regularly that he’d eventually tried to avoid personal connections.  Such was the curse of being a wizard, and being functionally immortal.  The world around him would turn, but he would not age - or rather, he would age slowly, at the pace of his own choosing - and people would die, wars would rise up and die down, and still he would live, watching it all, alone.  That wasn’t true.  Even if Merlin had been entombed for much of that time, he hadn’t been dead, not really.  The knowledge that he would see his mentor again had kept Douxie going during the loneliest of times, during the most devastating losses.  

And, of course, he’d had Archie, a constant companion who even now had done everything he could to help his friend, and when that hadn’t worked, when Douxie had been too stubborn to listen, he’d taken it upon himself to gather more of Douxie’s friends and staged an intervention.  If Douxie hadn’t been so exhausted and his mind hadn’t been so muddy, he might have been grateful or touched by the gesture and loyalty, but right now, he just felt irritated, like his privacy had been infringed upon.

Jim blinked.  “Well, uh,” he stammered, glancing at Claire before continuing, “it took time, first of all.  But, honestly, it was my friends.  But it took talking to someone who had gone through the same thing as me, who understood what I was going through, to first start the healing.”

Douxie shook his head.  “Everybody loses people,” he said slowly.  “But this feels different.”

“Just because everyone deals with loss doesn’t make your experiences any less important, Douxie,” Archie said sagely.  He was the only one in the room who had a true scope of all the heartbreaks Douxie had accumulated over his centuries of life in a world of short-lived mortals.

“It’s not that.” Douxie was desperate now for them to understand the truth. Then maybe they would stop being so kind to him.  Dream-Merlin had been right.  He didn’t deserve it.  “Don’t you see?  It’s my fault Merlin’s dead.  I killed him.”

Jim froze at his words, looking like he’d just been struck across the face.  For a moment, Douxie wondered why he reacted the way he did, but then remembered that Jim had been the one to hold Douxie down when Morgana was going to kill him.  He hadn’t been in his right mind, had been enslaved by the Arcane Order, but still, he had, in a small way, been the reason that Douxie had been forced into doing the switching magic that he had.  Still, Douxie could find no ill will in him against the Trollhunter.  He’d not been in control of his own mind.  Douxie had.

“I am so sorry,” Jim started, but Douxie immediately cut him off.

“It’s not your fault.  You weren’t you.  But me…”

“You have to see the truth,” Jim insisted urgently, now moving to take a seat on the bed next to his older friend.  Sure, they hadn’t known each other all that long, but going through the things they had and saving the world together tended to bring people closer together rather more quickly than usual, in his experience.  “It wasn’t your fault.  You did everything you could to save Merlin.  You took a sword in the gut for him.”  Douxie flinched internally at the reminder of the agony, the feeling of dying, the cold and the dark.  

“Yeah, Douxie,” Claire chimed in.  “You’re a hero.  You saved him.”

“If I’d had more control over that magic, if I’d channeled it a different way or done a different spell, then we might both be alive.”  He was so tired, but the conversation held him in its grip, and he couldn’t sleep anyway, he’d go back to the sword and Merlin’s death and the wizard’s tower where Merlin would tell him again that he’d failed.

“Douxie, you’re the one who’s been teaching me more magic!” Claire reminded him.  “One of the things I learned from my Shadow Staff - and that you’ve continued to show me - is that magic is emotion.  You can’t always control what magic is going to do when you are in a moment of fear or anger or desperation.  Magic reacts to your emotions.  And Jim’s right.  What you did was very brave and selfless.”

“That’s why Merlin gave his life to save you in return,” Archie added.  “That, and because he loved you, very much.”

Douxie felt the sting of hot tears carving pathways down his face and didn’t bother to wipe them off.  He felt like having a full-on temper tantrum, flopping onto his stomach and screaming and sobbing and slamming his fists into the ground and letting his magic explode out of him with all the force of the emotions and exhaustion that had built up inside.  He knew if he did that, though, he would just end up hurting someone else.

So he asked a question he was ashamed to ask, because it made it sound like he blamed Merlin instead of himself, “If he loved me, why did he leave?  Why didn’t he let me make my sacrifice?  It was like what I did didn’t matter.  I saved him because I don’t want to live without him, but that’s just what he forced me to do.”

Archie flapped off the desk and landed on the bed on the other side of his friend.  Placing a paw on Douxie’s leg, he spoke gently, as if to a lost child, “Merlin was a great wizard” -- Douxie sobbed -- “but he was also very selfish sometimes.  That comes with great power and an ego left unchecked paired with a very long life.  Merlin saved you because he couldn’t bear to think of a world without you in it.  Nor,” said the dragon, nuzzling Douxie’s elbow affectionately, “can I, for that matter.”

“But if I --”

“No buts,” said Archie.  “This was not your fault.  And I know Merlin told you the same.”

“He did,” Douxie admitted.  “But then he didn’t.  Every time I sleep, I see him, and he tells me… he tells me that I f-failed, that he’s d-dead because of me, and that I don’t deserve to live.”

“Oh, Douxie,” Claire breathed softly, sinking down into his desk chair.

“That’s not Merlin telling you that,” Jim spoke up.  Something raw lingered in his eyes.  “It’s the lies you are telling yourself.  I know because for weeks after the Darklands, I…” He cast his gaze briefly at Claire, and even in his semi-conscious state, Douxie got the feeling that he hadn’t even told his girlfriend this before.  “I had dreams every night of Claire, Toby, Blinky, Aaarrrgghh, everyone telling me I should have stayed in the Darklands.  Should have died there, because I wasn’t strong or brave enough, and I went in alone and betrayed them, and that they were better off and happier without me.  For a while, I believed them.”

Claire was crying quietly now, her hands pressed against her lips.

“But then,” Jim continued, “the more time I spent with my friends, and talked to them, I began to be able to separate their truth from my own lies.  Like I said earlier, you really need to talk to someone who gets it, you know.  And even though we’ve experienced a lot of the same things, it’s not me.”  He looked pointedly at the small black dragon who was currently in the same place he’d always been - at Douxie’s side.  

“I miss him too.”  Archie repeated his words from a few days ago.  “And I am here for you, Douxie.”  He must have seen the doubt festering in Douxie’s eyes and he reassured, “I do not blame you for what happened.  No one does.  The Merlin in your dreams is not real.  He is spitting your own self-doubts and guilt right back into your face, but deep down, you know the truth.  The real Merlin told you.  Jim and Claire told you.  And I am promising you - Merlin died because he chose to in order to save you because after all he had seen and done and all the years he’d lived, the one thing he was terrified of was having to light your funeral pyre.  And Merlin never did anything he didn’t want to do.  No one could have stopped him from making that choice.”

The words struck something deep inside of Douxie, and he felt the tiniest fraction of weight shift in his chest.  “M’be,” he slurred, so tired that his friends were all now blobs of blue, black, and purple.  A giant bruise.  He chuckled, a bit madly.  

“Okay, Douxie,” came Claire’s voice, distant and very close at the same time.  “I think you really need to lie down now.  You’ve been awake for too long.”

She and Jim helped him lie down.  Weakly, he protested, “I cn’t sleep.”

“You can,” said Jim.  “Take Archie’s words with you if you end up facing that dream-Merlin again.  Remember that we’re here for you.  None of us will leave you while you sleep, okay?”

“Yeah, we’ll be right here when you wake up, and if you have nightmares, we’ll remind you of the truth,” Claire promised.

“And I will guard you,” Archie vowed, retaking his cat form and curling up protectively over his closest friend’s heart.  “You are safe here.”

Douxie could resist the call of sleep no longer.  He closed his eyes and let it take him, and he felt the warm weight of Archie on his chest and the presence of his friends around him and the slightest of smiles curved his lips as he drifted off.

***

Thirty seconds after Douxie grew still upon the bed, his three friends let out a collective sigh of relief.  

Thirty seconds after that, Jim and Claire let out a collective yell of shock and Archie leapt to his paws, hissing and arching his back, as a giant, misty alarm clock appeared out of thin air and started screeching a terrible cacophony of wailing guitars and screaming vocals at top volume.

“What the--?” Claire shouted over the racket, slamming her hands over her ears.

“I forgot,” Archie called back, “he cast this spell to wake him up when he fell asleep.”

And yet, this time, Douxie still slept.

“Can you turn it off?” Jim yelled.

“No, only Douxie can undo the spell.”

Jim considered this for a moment and shook his head.  “Let him sleep.  He needs it.”  

And despite the loud, jarring music, he, Claire, and Archie kept their promise and stayed faithfully at their friend’s side until, four hours later, he woke up long enough to blessedly vanish the clock.

Then, like a little boy with a teddy bear, the already fading Douxie pulled a startled Archie into his arms and held him tight, curling up on his side with his furry prize.  Although uncomfortable in his new position and robbed of his draconian dignity, Archie snuggled in and purred, content to listen to the steady breathing of his deeply sleeping familiar.

[starshipviolet]

A MESSY LOVELESS REVIEW

I finally finished Loveless so I can follow Alice Oseman without fear of spoilers god I missed them?? It’s been over a month since I stopped following her it felt so wrong.

But here’s some Loveless thoughts! (It’s a tiny bit critical heads up if you’re not up for that.) I might edit this up into a formal review for like goodreads or something, but for right now the rambly bulletpoints just kinda work with how my brain works.

ALSO THIS INCLUDES SPOILERS

I have... let’s just say slightly unrealistic expectations from Alice Oseman novels sometimes, probably bc Radio Silence was just like, everything to me, like a major hyper fixation, it hung the stars, etc. and I related so hard to it when I read it, and her other books are fairly different than that and I’m not as quick to relate to them.

So I came into this book super excited, I live in the US and it took forever to ship (and during that time I had to unfollow Alice, and block the osemanverse tag bc spoilers, god, these are signs of the impending apocalypse.)

Overly dramatic first world problems aside, as I kept reading I was not like... overly excited about the first few sections?

I really liked the first first part, with the introduction of Pip and their texting, although Pip pressuring her to kiss Tommy was Not Fun In Many Ways. I thought Jason was sweet though and I liked the platonic relationships being set up, also the sleepover movies was a cute kinda realistic detail to throw in.

It was cool that they were just kinda dorks? (I love them, and so am I, but like. They’re such dorks. I don’t care that Jason’s trying to reframe himself as some sort of rowing jock, he is.) Like they had all their in jokes and sleepover nights and just kinda like low key hanging out which was nice bc there’s a lot of focus on like clubs and partying in YA and Alice’s books and it was cool to affirm, like “hey look, still happy without that.”

Tommy trying to kiss her was so painful but it also meant a lot to me that there was the “wait what I’ve just been lying to myself about liking him what does that mean” bc you know, lesbian solidarity vibes.

So you get to Durham, and it just... wasn’t as exciting as I hoped for the first chunk? Like I was mostly excited for enemies to lovers with Pip and Rooney but I forgot that means that they have to be horribly annoying to each other at first and I didn’t like Rooney right away.

This is where I should probably give a Big Huge Note that just because something made me uncomfortable doesn’t mean it’s bad writing or that it doesn’t serve a purpose. Georgia’s social pressure to conform to heteronormative ideas of romance is a reality so many people face. Rooney needed to have flaws at first so we could see character development.

Bottom line is, for me it was uncomfortable to read parts and I didn’t start truly loving the book until probably after she broke up with Jason. Their relationship was just so terrible. Again, do I know it serves a purpose? Yes. Did it enhance my personal entertainment of the novel? Absolutely not.

That being said, there were some good Pip/Rooney moments, and as basically a theatre kid the Shakespeare Society club meant a lot to me and I thought it was a good inclusion and also JESUS I thought I was gonna freaking die from all the tension in Pip and Rooney’s Beatrice and Bertrand performance. Wow.

Also Sunil!! I love them! I did think it was slightly weird that he was only referred to with he/him pronouns when they use he/they, but I’m not nonbinary so I’ll look out for what other ppl are thinking about that. It was so cool to have him there though, bc those kids needed some guidance and he needed some time to just have fun so, win win! We are so lucky for Sunil, we don’t deserve him.

Also I need to know everything about Jess bc I have a suspicion we may be the same person. Except I’m not in orchestra. Or British. Or aromantic bisexual. Whatever. She just seems awesome! And I would’ve loved to hear some wisdom from a slightly older queer woman, I guess.

So! Jumping now to some criticisms, I feel like there’s a bunch of parts where Georgia is explaining her feelings, or explaining someone else’s motivations or actions, and it didn’t do a lot for me, I wish there was more like show don’t tell.

There were some points when the writing was genuinely so good, like Pip’s dialouge was always fantastic, especially towards the end with Georgia, it showed off their friendship in a way I really would’ve loved to see more of. Alice’s imagery and character descriptions, especially outfit descriptions had some really good moments, like the main example I think about is the ball because that was everything for me until it wasn’t.

I just really did not enjoy Rooney kissing Georgia, it was such a painful scene and even more than my discomfort, it was just trope-y, you could tell that Pip would catch them and it didn’t feel necessary. I think they could’ve structured it where Pip is just mad about what happened to Jason and it would’ve been better.

But the outfit descriptions! And the bouncy castle game! And the decorations! It was definitely one of my favorite scenes.

I also loved that Alice included Ellis, just like, hell yeah it was so good especially the part where she talks about how there’s magic and love in painting and friends and living and everything.

Georgia and Rooney’s relationship toward the end made me SO emotional and I cried at the part where Georgia was talking about how she’s afraid her friends will leave her and Rooney comforts her.

And the big platonic gestures were fantastic, I knew that they would happen but I was worried it would be too cliche but it was the perfect amount of dorky and I loved it.

This book made me so happy and taught me a lot and I can only hope it will do the same for others and Alice will continue creating brilliant content. If you got this far, gee thanks friend, you have commitment. *Gives you friendship flowers*

[michelles-garden-of-evil]

Ian Martin’s Strange Paradise, Part I: The Top 5 Best Things

SPOILERS FOR LATE MALJARDIN AND BOTH DESMOND HALL ARCS

Hello and welcome again to my Garden of Evil, where this week I’m doing something a little different. Episode 44 having marked the departure of co-creator and original headwriter Ian Martin, we have officially reached the end of an era of Strange Paradise history. No longer will discussions and speculation on Martin’s authorial intent be relevant to the happenings on this show (although I will continue to give my thoughts on the Lost Episode summaries), now that Bob Costello is running the show with a different authorial intent.

Ian Martin’s episodes contrast with the second half of Maljardin in many ways. The pace is slower, the structure and characterizations more like those of a standard soap, and the tone at times borders on comedy. He also appears to have put more thought into the characters’ backstories than any of the other writers, much of which he never got the chance to show on screen. Moreover, of all the show’s writers, he seems to have put the most of his own heart and soul into it, if the death of his first wife six years earlier and his reuse of elements from the series in his later works are any indication.

That brings me to my plans for this week in my Garden of Evil. Before moving on to review Episode 45, I will post my final thoughts on his episodes, first listing what I consider the top five best things about his period headwriting the show. Next, I will make another of the top five worst things about the first 8.8 weeks of Maljardin (because no creative work is perfect). So without further ado, here are (in my not-so-humble opinion) the top five best things about Ian Martin’s Strange Paradise:

5. Clever, memorable dialogue and (sometimes) clever wordplay 

I say “sometimes,” because (as we all know) Jacques loves his puns and Devil jokes, which tend to be as cornball as they come. The (intentional) humor in Ian Martin’s dialogue tends to be hit or miss, but when it hits, it hits harder than the chandelier hit the séance table. Even when the jokes miss, it’s clear that he tried hard to make the show both funny and scary, and some of the worse ones still amuse me in a dad-joke sort of way.

Some jokes from SP that I find genuinely funny:

Jacques: “‘Prisoners’ is such a harsh word, Alison. Now, actually, I prefer the [terminology] ‘detained guests.’“ (Episode 14)

Alison: “I find you and everything you’ve done distasteful and revolting." Jacques: "Methinks the lady doth detest too much." (same)

"I wish my mother was on canvas instead of always on my back.” (Holly, Episode 18)

Dan: "Knowing how much you loved Erica, I can appreciate your display of courage." Jacques: "It was either that or letting myself go to the Devil!" (same)

Jacques: “Such a delightful bedside manner. Why not let her operate?” (Episode 21)

Jacques: “If your room is a prison cell and you are a prisoner, well, I invite you to your last hearty meal.” (same)

Holly: "Would you like to see my scars?" Jacques: "Well, lead us not into temptation...now, that isn't from Shakespeare, is it?" (Episode 25)

Elizabeth: “It seems to be your opportunity to entertain, Reverend. May I suggest Song of Solomon?” (Episode 40)

Also, some things that aren’t jokes per se, but still clever wordplay:

Matt’s name, a reference to the Tarot card The Fool, or Le Mat in French.

Jacques: "Well, Dan, are you going to join me in some kippers this morning, or haven't you finished fishing for the day?" Dan: "Just lowering the line, and I'm afraid you're going to get hooked." (Episode 26)

The whole kippers thing from the same episode.

The scene transition lines.

Two things that Curt pointed out to me a while back: the recurring “little bird” motif and the fact that Jacques, who was “shackled to the Temple” for three centuries was also shackled through the temples with the silver pin. (Thanks!)

Of the later writers, Cornelius Crane (who will write the last two weeks of Maljardin and most of Desmond Hall Arc I) will be the only other to consistently use humor in his SP scripts. His will be a different style of humor, lighter on wordplay and heavier on wit, satire, and snark between characters, in many ways reminiscent of my favorite Dark Shadows writer Violet Welles. While the style of humor in Crane’s episodes has generally aged better, I can’t deny the cleverness and charm in the lines quoted above.

4. A more complex story than later arcs

Compared to all other arcs of the show, early Maljardin has, by far, the most subplots. You have (1) the main plot that revolves around Jean Paul’s attempts to preserve and resurrect Erica, which leads to his desperate attempts to protect the cryonics capsule, Jacques’ freedom and repeated possessions, and Raxl and Quito’s search for the conjure doll and silver pin. Directly connected to this are (2) Jacques’ murder of Dr. Menkin, (3) Alison and Dan’s search for the true cause of Erica’s death and for Dr. Menkin’s missing notes, and (4) the love triangle/square between Dan, Alison, and Jean Paul/Jacques. Then you have the four interconnected plots directly involving Holly, including (5) her romantic pursuit by Matt, Tim, Jacques, and Quito; (6) her conflicts with Elizabeth including direct competition over Jean Paul/Jacques; (7) her torment by Erica’s spirit; and (8) Tim’s subplot about the damned Holly portrait. Then there are (9) the saga of the missing cyanide and (10) the guests’ resistance to Jean Paul’s imprisonment of them on the island. In addition to these, we have (11) the history of Jacques, which may have included innumerable subplots of its own had Ian Martin been allowed to explore it thoroughly. We know that Jacques’ pursuit of Alison and Elizabeth would have connected to this, given their previous incarnations as Rahua and Tarasca, and that Martin originally planned for Tarasca to have her own storyline. If we include the aborted arc about Elizabeth’s possession by Tarasca, that would have made a whopping twelve subplots(!), unless I’m forgetting about something.

For comparison, here are the major subplots from Desmond Hall, during the period when Cornelius Crane did most of the writing: (1) Jean Paul’s possession by the Mark of Death; (2) the coven’s schemes to undermine the Desmond family, which led to the disappearance of Philip Desmond; (3) the Evil Serpent plotline; (4) the Hamlet subplot involving Cort’s conflicts with his mother and dear stepfather; (5) the love triangle of Cort, Holly, and Philip’s ghost; (6) the second love triangle of Ada, Laslo, and Irene; (7) all of Jean Paul’s romantic entanglements; and (8) the attempted possession of his fiancée Helena by Erica. That’s still a lot of intersecting plots, but not quite as many as in early Maljardin.

I know I’ve complained in the past about the recap that makes up about half the dialogue in early Maljardin, but the sheer number of plots may have required it to ensure that returning viewers remembered everything and new viewers weren’t completely lost. I don’t have to like the constant recap, but I must admit that it was probably necessary even for the fans who managed to catch every episode during its original run.

3. Stronger characterizations than under the writers of late Maljardin

Like a traditional soap opera, the first half of the Maljardin arc is character-driven. Most important plot points occur on Mondays and Fridays, leaving the mid-week episodes for (mostly) minor plot points, subplots, and character development. We see Alison’s relationship with Jean Paul evolve from friendly in-laws to potential lovers, only for her to tire of his constant mood changes and withdraw from him. We see Reverend Matt Dawson’s crisis of faith, from his stalking Holly out of an allegedly spiritual love to his questioning his disbelief in demons while trapped on Maljardin. We see Dan lose all respect for Jean Paul as he becomes convinced that his employer murdered Erica and Dr. Menkin. We also see Jean Paul grow increasingly volatile even when Jacques isn’t possessing him, making his prisoners try harder to escape and creating a vicious cycle of repression and paranoia on the island.

After Robert Costello becomes producer, the arc shifts to a more plot-driven narrative. In a span of just four weeks, Erica will be resurrected and proceed to murder most of the characters. Character development will lose its importance in late Maljardin, and the characters of Elizabeth and Holly (and later Jean Paul) will become almost unrecognizable. Although Cornelius Crane was a competent writer who gave strong characterizations to the characters he created, he makes it clear that he didn’t care much for Martin’s creations through how quickly he kills off most of them and alters the personalities of two of the ones left.

2. Actual research

This one is most noticeable in two areas: the scientific subjects discussed and the way that Martin uses the Tarot. Before writing for SP, he worked on The Doctors and The Nurses, both early medical dramas with soap opera elements. Little survives from either The Nurses or the 1960s era of The Doctors[1], but one can imagine that he got into the habit of researching medical topics then--perhaps not including subjects as far-out as cryonics, but maybe some of the others discussed on SP like cellular reconstruction, organ transplants, and eclampsia. Here on SP, he’s referenced specific scientific studies, including Miroslava Pavlović’s study of brain transplants in quail embryos, Kenneth B. Wolfe’s “Effects of Hypothermia on Cerebral Damage Resulting from Cardiac Arrest,” and--most fascinating of all--W. Grey Walter’s robotics article “An Imitation of Life,” whose potential significance to Erica’s backstory I discussed in the final part of my Shadow Over Seventh Heaven review series.

His penchant for research becomes even more obvious when we explore his use of the Tarot and compare it to the way the cards were used on the show’s inspiration Dark Shadows. Despite also having done research on various occult matters--the most obscure being the use of I Ching wands for time travel[2]--DS’s writers were notably lazy in their use of Tarot symbolism, sticking mostly to the Major Arcana, often interpreting their names literally, and using the Tower of Destruction so often that one would think that copies of the Tower comprised half the deck. Not so on SP. Although he did have tarot reader Vangie Abbott use Death literally in Episode 7, and he does portray the Nine of Swords as “the card of death” when it typically means nightmares, suffering because of loss, and inner torment, his use of the Tarot typically shows careful research into the meanings of mostly cards from the Minor Arcana (the suits of wands, cups, swords, and pentacles). He uses it both as a means of giving character profiles and for foreshadowing, although the cards often foreshadow planned events that never took place because of script rewrites.

He did, however, take some artistic liberties with other subjects that he must have researched while writing the serial. I mean to write a detailed analysis someday comparing and contrasting the show’s portrayal of vodou with the reality, but I’m not satisfied with the scanty amount of research that I’ve done so far. I have already written about the Great Serpent and how Raxl appears to syncretize the loa Damballah with the Aztec feathered serpent Quetzalcoatl, but there are other related subjects I want to discuss someday in other posts. The short version: the “voodoo” portrayed on the show is a mixture of elements of genuine Afro-Caribbean religions (worship of a Serpent God, belief in zombies, use of drums in rituals, the titles “Conjure Man” and “Conjure Woman”) and traditional Mesoamerican religious practices (Quetzalcoatl, Aztec human sacrifice, Raxl’s mention of curanderos). The evidence suggests that he picked and chose elements from these traditions for Maljardin’s “Conjure Faith” in a way reminiscent of the real-life phenomenon of religious syncretism. While somewhat problematic, the obscurity of some of the things he picked and chose shows that he must have conducted some research even on these subjects.

1. The best Jacques

Jean Paul Desmond may be the protagonist, but, in the first seven weeks of the show, it’s his devilish ancestor Jacques who truly steals the show. From his evil laugh to his snarky commentary on the happenings on Maljardin to the hilarious and adorable expressions he makes as he plays with his detained guests, there’s no denying that Jacques is the star of Martin’s SP. When he’s absent, the whole show suffers from a lack of his mischief, not to mention that smile that stirs up desires in me that can never be righteously fulfilled. If there’s a Devil, I bet he resembles THE DEVIL JACQUES ELOI DES MONDES in looks, voice, and demeanor--the better to seduce you with (and by you, I mean me). Horns and a pointy tail, after all, don’t tempt half as well as a beautiful black cape and Bissits Face™.

The Jacques of late Maljardin will be a far flatter character, more outwardly evil but less charming and consequently less entertaining. In Desmond Hall, his role will be reduced significantly and he will have very little dialogue, mostly just the same clip of his laughter repeated. He will have a few fun scenes in the second Desmond Hall arc, but the post-Martin Jacques is no devil, just an ordinary man with a slightly different personality, led over to the dark side. This is understandable--the thought of the supernatural embodiment of evil remaining imprisoned for three centuries is quite far-fetched, and Desmond Hall Arc II writer Harding Lemay wasn’t fond of all-evil characters[3]--but I still find the original Jacquet the most fun by far.

That concludes this post on my favorite things about Ian Martin’s Strange Paradise. Stay tuned for my list of some things about his writing that needed improvement.

{ Next: The Top 5 Worst Things -> }

Notes

[1] The Thousand Oaks Library in Thousand Oaks, California has ten of Martin’s scripts from The Doctors from shortly after the series switched from its original experimental anthology format to a traditional continuing soap.

[2] The portrayal of the I Ching as a means of time travel on Dark Shadows almost certainly came from William Seabrook’s book Witchcraft: Its Power in the World Today, where he describes the 49th ko hexagram’s use in a form of past-life regression in New York magick circles in the early 20th century. See Seabrook, “Werewolf in Washington Square,” Witchcraft (New York: Ishi Press, 2015), pp. 164-175.

[3] Harding Lemay, Eight Years in Another World, chap. 3, Kindle edition. In this chapter, Lemay discusses his conflicts with Irna Phillips, the creator of Another World, over how to portray soap opera characters. According to him, Phillips believed that characters should be depicted as either “Saints” or “Sinners,” the only permitted nuance being that female Sinners had to love their children if they had any. Lemay disagreed with such black-and-white characterizations, finding them unrealistic, and made the serial’s characters more morally gray.

[yunohawkeye]

Dropping in to say I love your blog dear! 🥰🥰🥰❤❤❤❤ May I please request for NSFW alphabet for Submissive MC and Ikevamp Shakespeare?

Find yourself someone that devoted lolYou can consider yourself lucky Shakes~

It took some time but I finally finished it :)Thanks for @aromantic-misguide-to-romance and @reneotomegirl for having a look over it ^^

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

If it’s been quite a rough night you won’t even have to ask him. He’ll get salves, a nice steamy cup of tea and everything else you ask of him.He takes very good care of any bruises and handles them with such care that this alone makes you feel like floating on cloud seven.After everything is taken care of he’ll hold you tight, whisper sweet nothings in your ear and either play with your hair or caress your skin.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves your face, for the simple reason that he loves to see the expressions he can coax out of you. He can’t get enough of seeing you lost in pleasure, in contrast to your innocent smile you wear over the day.

For himself he likes his deft hands. This goes combined with your expressions because, while he’s working you with his hand, he’s also able to look into your eyes.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Will is a very possessive lover, so seeing his cum on your face or dribbling out of your mouth after you went down on him gets him hard again almost immediately.

He also loves to see his essence running down your abdomen and just the thought that if this was inside of you- able to create new life sates his possessiveness.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It’s not a secret that he likes to do light bondage with you but there has been a fantasy in his head.

It involves you tied up, completely helpless and at his mercy while he coaxes those sweet, sweet sounds from you. Teasing and edging you relentlessly just to give you one mindblowing orgasm after another throughout  the whole night.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He does have some experience, especially from his former life, but even then he focused on the theatre and his plays. It was mainly flirting and flattering but there were some nights he gave in to temptation.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

He loves to see you lying on your back with both hands tied to the bedpost over your head. This leaves him with many opportunities and his imagination.

But if it’s not just for pleasure but for craved intimacy he likes the missionary position. As much as he likes to be creative he also cherishes those nights where just being with you sates all of his desires.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Will isn’t one to goof around, but is quite fond of teasing. Through his words he’ll make you giggle from time to time, but mostly uses it for very poetic dirty talk.

But he won’t shy away from cracking a joke or tickling you if you seem down.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Fitting for a gentleman he’s well groomed and due to personal preference he keeps it very short.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Normally he puts on his playwright mask wherever he goes and doesn’t let anyone actually come near him. This makes it more meaningful when he lets it fall, especially in those moments.

So with Will it’s always very intimate and sensual, even just on an emotional basis.He’d also never leave you unsatisfied or redundant do something you’re not comfortable with but would do anything you ask of him. He’s always weak for you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Will sees his life as a tragedy so such simple pleasures aren’t normally on his list, although even tragedies have their highlights. But still, it’s very rare to happen.

Until he met you. Since then he feels the urge almost every time after he spent time with you, because you make him feel things he hasn’t felt in ages.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He’s very fond of bondage, from light to moderate.

Will loves to tie you up and give you pleasure until you beg him to stop.

He’s not opposed to be tied up lightly himself, but he prefers if you’re the one tied up.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Going hand in hand with his preference for bondage, he’s fond of spending those nights in a bed.

He’s also fond of any other place he can tie your hands to, no matter the position. But again, he won’t ever force you.

Will won’t shy away from closets or storage rooms if you both are up for it, as well.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

He gets really turned on whenever he sees you all dressed up and even more so when you decide to show some skin. If you top it off with a nice perfume he gave you, it allows you to see lust darken his eyes.

Other than that, a more innocent turn-on for him is your smile. Just seeing it makes him want to give you all the pleasure you deserve and even more.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He won’t hurt you. Not in the sense that he’d deny you any wishes in bed, but even then he has boundaries.

For instance, one thing he’d never do is to degrade you. As a playwright he knows how simple words can hurt. He’d rather praise you in any way he can.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Will loves to go down on you but prefers to do it with his fingers. When he has his head between your legs he can’t see your expressions but loves your wetness on his lips.

When he uses his fingers he can see your expressions and hear those sounds leaving your lips.

Let’s just say he’s torn. But either way, he is a big fan of the sweet torture of edging.

If you want to go down on him he won’t say no, but be warned, because he doesn’t have much control when you tease him too much.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

On a normal basis it’s rather slow and rough but he can go more tender if you ask him to. Will just wants to take his time with you.

Although, if you’ve been spending a lot of time with one of the residents and he’s fueled with jealousy you should prepare for a very rough and fast-paced night.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He prefers to take his time with you and make it a full body experience instead of just sating the hunger for pleasure.

There are some days where he’ll initiate them, but only if you haven’t seen each other in some time and don’t have much time on your hands.

But if you ask for it or initiate it he’d never say no. He'll only initiate it himself after you’ve been away for a long period of time or if his jealousy got the best of him.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’s up for risk, especially for the risk of getting caught.

Pleasuring you in a broom closet while the others are eating in the dining room, wondering where you are, all while you have to stifle your moans.

But he’s not up for hurting you, at least not too much. He’s up for some rather rough scenarios but nothing that would leave scars or long lasting bruises.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He’s pulled many all-nighters in his life, but writing is quite different to having fun with each other in bed. But he can go for a few rounds, depending on the day, some more or less.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Will is very keen on using toys on you. The moment you told him that there are toys for sexual pleasure from the future he rushed to le Comte and asked him to get him some of those.

He’s a fan of burying one of those so-called vibrators inside of you while he keeps the remote to control the intensity. He loves the feeling when he presses just one button and can watch you trying to contain your mewls of pleasure. It has become his favorite  pastime activity.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He teases a little. But he’s very good at dirty talk which always sounds so poetic and makes you feel like you’re one of his masterpieces.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s quite moderate in volume.

Will groans on a normal basis but the moans turn lighter when he gets closer, just to top it off with heavenly sounding moans when he reaches his high.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

As much as he likes to take charge and have you at his mercy he also loves it when you take control from time to time, when you show him that he means as much to you as you mean to him.

But when you do, please be gentle, because on some days he just needs someone that uses their power to soothe and make him feel safe and cared for.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He’s a little above average in size and girth.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Let’s just say there’s a reason his pet is a bunny.

He wants to spend as much time with you as possible, also a lot of it in intimate settings. Because life is evanescent and he hasn’t felt the gentle embrace of a lover in a very long time, he  has so many built-up emotions boiling inside him. He needs someone to quench his thirst.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes some time until he falls asleep and he spends as long as he can awake, staring at your face and thinking about poems and stories through which he can show you how much you mean to him.

There are nights where he doesn’t sleep at all because seeing his muse sleeping in his arms gives him so many ideas that he just doesn’t have the time.

So sometimes it would be good to lull him to sleep before you, otherwise who knows how much sleep he’ll miss.

[mandalisa]

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C’est la vie (~2020~) U 10/02/2021 (FR) Comédie 1h 43m Note des utilisateurs Synopsis Cinq femmes s’apprêtent à accoucher. Elles ne se connaissent pas, ne se ressemblent pas, mais vont se retrouver dans la même maternité pour vivre le plus beau jour de leur vie. Des premières contractions à la naissance, le film retrace leur parcours, entre rires et larmes. 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It’s bold of Nolan to make such a thoroughly dense blockbuster. He assumes people will actually want to see C’est la vie more than once so they can understand it properly, which some may not. This movie makes the chronology of Inception look as simplistic as tic-tac-toe. Ergo, it’s hard for me to give an accurate rating, without having seen it twice, as I’m still trying to figure out whether everything does indeed make sense. If it does, this movie is easily a 9 or 10. If it doesn’t, it’s a 6. It’s further not helped by the fact that the dialogue in the first 15 minutes of the movie is painfully hard to understand / hear. Either they were behind masks; they were practically mumbling; the sound effects were too loud; or all of the above. The exposition scenes are also waayyy too brief for something this complex — a problem also shared with Interstellar actually. (Interstellar had this minimalist exposition problem explaining Blight, where if you weren’t careful, you’d miss this one sentence / scene in the entire movie explaining that Blight was a viral bacteria: “Earth’s atmosphere is 80% nitrogen, we don’t even breathe nitrogen. Blight does, and as it thrives, our air gets less and less oxygen”). I guess it’s a Nolan quirk. Hopefully, a revision of the film audio sorts the sound mixing out. I do like the soundtrack, but it’s too loud initially. I liked all the actors. You think John Washington can’t act at first, but he can, and he grows on you as the film progresses. And Pattinson is his usual charming self. Elizabeth is a surprise treat. And so on. Its worth a watch either way. See it with subtitles if you can. And definitely don’t expect to fully understand whats going on the first time around. Its one hell of a complicated film. It will be very hard for an average viewer to gather all the information provided by this movie at the first watch. But the more you watch it, more hidden elements will come to light. And when you are able to put these hidden elements together. You will realize that this movie is just a “masterpiece” which takes the legacy of Christopher Nolan Forward If I talk about acting, Then I have to say that Robert Pattinson has really proved himself as a very good actor in these recent years. And I am sure his acting skills will increase with time. His performance is charming and very smooth. Whenever he is on the camera, he steals the focus John David Washington is also fantastic in this movie. His performance is electrifying, I hope to see more from him in the future. Other characters such as Kenneth Branagh, Elizabeth, Himesh Patel, Dimple Kapadia, Clémence Poésy have also done quite well. And I dont think there is a need to talk about Michael Caine Talking about Music, its awesome. I dont think you will miss Hans Zimmer’s score. Ludwig has done a sufficient job. There is no lack of good score in the movie Gotta love the editing and post production which has been put into this movie. I think its fair to say this Nolan film has focused more in its post production. The main problem in the movie is the sound mixing. Plot is already complex and some dialogues are very soft due to the high music score. It makes it harder to realize what is going on in the movie. Other Nolan movies had loud BGM too. But Audio and dialogues weren’t a problem My humble request to everyone is to please let the movie sink in your thoughts. Let your mind grasp all the elements of this movie. I am sure more people will find it better. Even those who think they got the plot. I can bet they are wrong. C’est la vie is the long awaited new movie from Christopher Nolan. The movie that’s set to reboot the multiplexes post-Covid. It’s a manic, extremely loud, extremely baffling sci-fi cum spy rollercoaster that will please a lot of Nolan fan-boys but which left me with very mixed views. John David Washington (Denzel’s lad) plays “The Protagonist” — a crack-CIA field operative who is an unstoppable one-man army in the style of Hobbs or Shaw. Recruited into an even more shadowy organisation, he’s on the trail of an international arms dealer, Andrei Sator (Kenneth Branagh in full villain mode). Sator is bullying his estranged wife Kat (Elizabeth Debicki) over custody of their son (and the film unusually has a BBFC warning about “Domestic Abuse”). Our hero jets the world to try to prevent a very particular kind of Armageddon while also keeping the vulnerable and attractive Kat alive. This is cinema at its biggest and boldest. Nolan has taken a cinema ‘splurge’ gun, filled it with money, set it on rapid fire, removed the safety and let rip at the screen. Given that Nolan is famous for doing all of his ‘effects’ for real and ‘in camera’, some of what you see performed is almost unbelievable. You thought crashing a train through rush-hour traffic in “Inception” was crazy? You ain’t seen nothing yet with the airport scene! And for lovers of Chinooks (I must admit I am one and rush out of the house to see one if I hear it coming!) there is positively Chinook-p*rn on offer in the film’s ridiculously huge finale. The ‘inversion’ aspects of the story also lends itself to some fight scenes — one in particular in an airport ‘freeport’ — which are both bizarre to watch and, I imagine, technically extremely challenging to pull off. In this regard John David Washington is an acrobatic and talented stunt performer in his own right, and must have trained for months for this role. Nolan’s crew also certainly racked up their air miles pre-lockdown, since the locations range far and wide across the world. The locations encompassed Denmark, Estonia, India, Italy, Norway, the United Kingdom, and United States. Hoyte Van Hoytema’s cinematography is lush in introducing these, especially the beautiful Italian coast scenes. Although I did miss the David Arnold strings that would typically introduce these in a Bond movie: it felt like that was missing. The ‘timey-wimey’ aspects of the plot are also intriguing and very cleverly done. There are numerous points at which you think “Oh, that’s a sloppy continuity error” or “Shame the production design team missed that cracked wing mirror”. Then later in the movie, you get at least a dozen “Aha!” moments. Some of them (no spoilers) are jaw-droppingly spectacular. Perhaps the best twist is hidden in the final line of the movie. I only processed it on the way home. And so to the first of my significant gripes with C’est la vie. The sound mix in the movie is all over the place. I’d go stronger than that… it’s truly awful (expletive deleted)! Nolan often implements Shakespeare’s trick of having characters in the play provide exposition of the plot to aid comprehension. But unfortunately, all of this exposition dialogue was largely incomprehensible. This was due to: the ear-splitting volume of the sound: 2020 movie audiences are going to be suffering from ‘C’est la vieis’! (LOL); the dialogue is poorly mixed with the thumping music by Ludwig Göransson (Wot? No Hans Zimmer?); a large proportion of the dialogue was through masks of varying description (#covid-appropriate). Aaron Taylor-Johnson was particularly unintelligible to my ears. Overall, watching this with subtitles at a special showing might be advisable! OK, so I only have a PhD in Physics… but at times I was completely lost as to the intricacies of the plot. It made “Inception” look like “The Tiger Who Came to Tea”. There was an obvious ‘McGuffin’ in “Inception” — — (“These ‘dream levels’… how exactly are they architected??”…. “Don’t worry… they’ll never notice”. And we didn’t!) In “C’est la vie” there are McGuffins nested in McGuffins. So much of this is casually waved C’est la vie as “future stuff… you’re not qualified” that it feels vaguely condescending to the audience. At one point Sator says to Kat “You don’t know what’s going on, do you?” and she shakes her head blankly. We’re right with you there luv! There are also gaps in the storyline that jar. The word “C’est la vie”? What does it mean. Is it just a password? I’m none the wiser. The manic pace of C’est la vie and the constant din means that the movie gallops along like a series of disconnected (albeit brilliant) action set pieces. For me, it has none of the emotional heart of the Cobb’s marriage problems from “Inception” or the father/daughter separation of “Interstellar”. In fact, you barely care for anyone in the movie, perhaps with the exception of Kat. It’s a talented cast. As mentioned above, John David Washington is muscular and athletic in the role. It’s a big load for the actor to carry in such a tent-pole movie, given his only significant starring role before was in the excellent BlacKkKlansman. But he carries it off well. A worthy successor to Gerard Butler and Jason Statham for action roles in the next 10 years. This is also a great performance by Robert Pattinson, in his most high-profile film in a long time, playing the vaguely alcoholic and Carré-esque support guy. Pattinson’s Potter co-star Clemence Poésy also pops up — rather more un-glam that usual — as the scientist plot-expositor early in the movie. Nolan’s regular Michael Caine also pops up. although the 87-year old legend is starting to show his age: His speech was obviously affected at the time of filming (though nice try Mr Nolan in trying to disguise that with a mouth full of food!). But in my book, any amount of Caine in a movie is a plus. He also gets to deliver the best killer line in the film about snobbery! However, it’s Kenneth Branagh and Elizabeth Debicki that really stand out. They were both fabulous, especially when they were bouncing off each other in their marital battle royale. So, given this was my most anticipated movie of the year, it’s a bit of a curate’s egg for me. A mixture of being awe-struck at times and slightly disappointed at others. It’s a movie which needs a second watch, so I’m heading back today to give my ear drums another bashing! And this is one where I reserve the right to revisit my rating after that second watch… it’s not likely to go down… but it might go up. (For the full graphical review, check out One Mann’s Movies on t’interweb and Facebook. Thanks.) As this will be non-spoiler, I can’t say too much about the story. However, what I can is this: C’est la vie’s story is quite dynamic in the sense that you won’t understand it till it wants you to. So, for the first half, your brain is fighting for hints and pieces to puzzle together the story. It isn’t until halfway through the movie that C’est la vie invites you to the fantastic storytelling by Christopher Nolan. Acting is beyond phenomenal, and I’d be genuinely surprised if neither Robert Pattinson nor John David Washington doesn’t receive an Oscar nomination for best actor. It’s also hard not to mention how good Elizabeth Debicki and Aaron Johnson both are. All around, great acting, and the dialogue amps up the quality of the movie. The idea of this movie is damn fascinating, and while there are films that explore time-travelling, there’s never been anything quite like this. It has such a beautiful charm and for the most part, explains everything thoroughly. It feels so much more complex than any form of time-travelling we’ve seen, and no less could’ve been expected from Nolan. Oh my lord, the score for this film fits so perfectly. Every scene that’s meant to feel intense was amped by a hundred because of how good the score was. Let me just say though, none of them will be found iconic, but they fit the story and scenes so well. In the end, I walked out, feeling very satisfied. Nevertheless, I do have issues with the film that I cannot really express without spoiling bits of the story. There are definitely little inconsistencies that I found myself uncovering as the story progressed. However, I only had one issue that I found impacted my enjoyment. That issue was understanding some of the dialogue. No, not in the sense that the movie is too complicated, but more that it was hard to make out was being said at times. It felt like the movie required subtitles, but that probably was because, at a time in the film, there was far too much exposition. Nevertheless, I loved this film, I’ll be watching it at least two more times, and I think most of you in this group will enjoy it. I definitely suggest watching it in theatres if possible, just so you can get that excitement. (4/5) & (8.5/10) for those that care about number scores. At first, I want to ask Christopher Nolan one question, HOW THE HELL YOU DID THIS? Seriously I want to have an answer, How did he write such as this masterpiece! How did he get this complicated, fabulous and creative idea? What is going on in his mind? The story is written and directed perfectly, the narration style was absolutely unique. I have no idea how can anyone direct such as this story, that was a huge challenge, and as usual Nolan gave us a masterpiece that we’ll put beside (Memento), (Inception) and (Interstellar) The movie is so fast-paced in a good way, there was no boring moment. The chemistry between John David Washington and Robert Pattinson was great and funny and both of their performance was really good. Elizabeth Debicki performance was the best in the movie because she had the chance to show her acting abilities and she cached up that chance and showed us an A level acting. The music wasn’t unique and distinct as the music of Interstellar for example and I think this movie needed the touch of Hans Zimmer, I’m not saying that Ludwig Göransson failed but Hans Zimmer in another level. If there was something I’d say that I didn’t like it in the movie would it be that Nolan discarded any set up or characters backgrounds except Elizabeth Debicki dramatic story but it wasn’t that bad for me, I didn’t care about that, the exciting story didn’t give me the chance to focus on it. But the actual problem was the third act, it was really complicated and I got lost and I convinced myself to discard the questions that were in my head and enjoy the well-made action sequences and Elizabeth Debicki performance. I think this kind of movie that gets better with a second and third watch. I honestly don’t quite know where to begin with C’est la vie. I love Christopher Nolan’s work but I have never seen a more complicated film (and I understood Memento). After nearly three hours, I came C’est la vie from C’est la vie not knowing myself, my mind reduced to nothing more than piles of ash. Was there time travel involved? Hmm, there was definitely something about time inversion. I mean, does Nolan even understand what he wrote? Look, I give credit to the director because he’s one of the few directors left who knows how to create a compelling and intelligent blockbuster. C’est la vie is full of Nolan trademarks — the gratuitous Michael Caine cameo, a loud, really loud score, complete with stunning cinematography and slickly inventive action set-pieces. This time around however, Nolan has finally managed to ‘out-Nolan’ himself: the palindromic plot, whilst creatively ambitious, is simply far too complicated for its own good. C’est la vie is overlong, overstuffed, pretentious and too exhausting to comprehend in its entirety — it makes Inception and Interstellar look like Peppa Pig by comparison. I’m aware of the technical wizardry and creative mastery in this film and lord knows I’ll have to watch this again. For those who want a puzzle, C’est la vie at least provides a unique cinematic experience. But to actually enjoy solving it Nolan wants you to work

[ajax-b1ue]

Doubt Thou the Stars Are Fire

Summary: ‘Why on Earth was Logan in his room at this time of night? Scratch that— why was Logan reciting Act 2, Scene 2 of Romeo and Juliet, in Roman’s room, at midnight??’

Warnings: Mild anxiety, self-deprecation... excessive fluff? Pairings: Logince (can be read as either platonic or romantic) WC: 2946 AO3

@5-crofters-jams​ It was only supposed to be a short little fluffy thing, but then it turned into... well, this. :’)

Roman was dimly aware of being in that half-asleep state where he was technically conscious, but not yet truly awake.

There was a feeling, however, of something being out of place— something not quite right, nagging at his mind to rouse and pay attention. 

“Soft!”

Roman’s eyes snapped open, thoughts sharpening into focus.

“What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Roman is the sun.”

Pushing himself up on his hands, Roman searched until his eyes fell on a figure standing in front of the open bay doors that led into Thomas’s imagination, silhouetted against the moonlight, a gentle breeze fluttering the curtains on either side of them.

And just as quickly, Roman’s thoughts stalled out.

“…Logan?”

Roman was definitely still asleep. There was no way that Thomas’s logical side was standing in his bedroom, reciting Shakespeare. He had to be dreaming.

Logan went on as though he hadn’t heard. “Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief.” He gestured vaguely in Roman’s direction. “That thou her maid art far more fair than she.”

…Or maybe he was hallucinating.

Roman stared, not quite sure what to make of it. Why on Earth was Logan in his room at this time of night? Scratch that— why was Logan reciting Act 2, Scene 2 of Romeo and Juliet, in Roman’s room, at midnight??

Roman was very confused, and somewhat concerned.

 “Logan… what’s going on?” He slowly stood up from the edge of his bed, never letting his eyes leave Logan. “Are you feeling all right?” 

Perhaps Logan was sick? Roman edged forward, reaching for the other side’s forehead to check if he was feverish. Instead of answering, Logan skirted a few steps away, evading Roman’s outstretched hand.

“Be not her maid since she is envious,” was the only response he offered. “Her vestal livery is but sick and green, and none but fools do wear it. Cast it off!”

The creative side was now more than somewhat concerned, quickly turning into alarmed. Something was clearly not right. And now Roman was struck by a new, worrying thought:

What if being in Roman’s room was affecting Logan? Making him act like… this?

“Logan, I don’t think you’re feeling quite like yourself, right now,” Roman said, keeping his voice soft and high and hopefully non-threatening. “Why don’t you come with me, and we’ll set you to rights?”

Again Roman tried to reach out, this time to take Logan’s hand, with the intention of gently steering the other side back out of his room and into a more neutral space. But Logan continued to back away from him, shifting from Romeo and Juliet into Sonnet 106: “When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, and beauty making beautiful old rhyme in prose of ladies dead, and lovely knights…”

As the words fell from Logan’s lips, he backed all the way through the still-open doors, into the imagination proper; Roman froze.

The imagination was the absolute last place Logan should be wandering around, with the state he was in.

“Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty’s best,” Logan murmured. “Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow…”

Part of Roman wanted to leap forward, to grab the other side and yank him back— but he also worried that if he moved too suddenly, Logan might bolt. He knew he should probably go get the help of the others, but Roman didn’t trust that Logan wouldn’t wander off on his own.

Even as he stood there, debating over what to do, Logan drifted a few steps further, saying, “I see their antique pen would have expressed even such a beauty as you master now.”

Roman was left with little choice but to follow.

And so it went: Logan reciting, Roman following, every so often trying to entreat Logan to stop or to come to him— trying to slip closer when he thought Logan might not notice.

And yet Logan wouldn’t allow Roman to reach him. He continued to retreat, dancing away from Roman’s grasp, and never once losing his iambic meter.

 “So all their praises are but prophecies of this our time, all you prefiguring,” Logan declared, circling around a tree, as Roman tried very hard not to let out a sound of aggravation. “And, for they looked but with divining eyes, they had not skill enough your worth to sing.”

“Yes, thank you, Logan, I do appreciate the compliment.” Why hadn’t Roman had the sense to change his outfit from pajamas into his usual regal attire when he had the chance? He couldn’t exactly focus enough at the moment, not that Logan was really giving him an opportunity. “I would appreciate it more if you would stay in one spot.”

“For we, which now behold these present days, had eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise,” Logan replied.

“Mmmmmmhhh…”

By now, they were well and truly entrenched in the imagination, deep within the woods that were the realm’s usual default state. Roman was growing increasingly frustrated, as well as determined to stop Logan— who, oddly enough, seemed to grow increasingly anxious, even desperate to evade Roman’s attempts to interrupt his recitation.

“Logan, come on.” Roman was jogging at this point, and exceedingly aware of how barefooted he was. “Can you please stop and think about what you’re doing right now? Emphasis on the stop part of that??” He fumbled for a few steps, hissing at whatever it was that had just stabbed into his foot. “Logan!”

Surprisingly, Logan did hesitate, pausing long enough to turn and glimpse back at Roman. “He speaks yet he says nothing: what of that?” he wondered aloud. “His eye discourses; I will answer it.”

Roman grimaced back at him.

“I am too bold, ‘tis not to me he speaks,” Logan concluded hastily, spinning back around. “Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, having some business, do entreat his eyes to twinkle in their spheres till they return!”

At this point, Logan was running outright, with Roman chasing after.

Perhaps most bizarrely, Logan never stopped reciting lines, although now they were punctuated with sharp breaths as he fled through Thomas’s imagination, Roman hot on his heels.

“But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, feed’st they lightest flame with self-substantial fuel,” he gasped, faking left then dashing right; Roman cursed behind him. “Making a famine where abundance lies, thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel!”

Roman lunged; Logan dodged.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temper— oof!!”

Roman launched himself at Logan, tackling him to the ground.

The two of them tumbled into the dirt in a heap; Roman recovered first, and before the other side could slip away, Roman sat on him— his knees straddling Logan’s legs, and his hands pinning Logan’s shoulders.

That, it seemed, was enough to get through to him.

“Roman!”

Now, finally, Logan actually addressed Roman— and was very flustered as he did. “You— what— get off of me!” His voice had gone high, and he pushed ineffectually at Roman’s arms.

 “What in the world is going on??” Roman demanded instead, ignoring Logan’s protests. He tried to feel the logical side’s forehead; Logan irritably batted Roman’s hand away.

“I’m not sick!”

“Your face is bright red,” Roman pointed out in a deadpan, earning a grimace in return. “And do you mean to tell me that you’re wandering around Thomas’s imagination, reciting Shakespeare, and you’re not delirious?”

“Let me up,” Logan insisted, evading the question as he tried again to shove Roman off of him. By now even his ears were turning scarlet.

Roman didn’t budge. “How do I know you aren’t going to run off, spouting the First Folio?”

“I am fully possessed of all of my faculties, thank you,” Logan retorted, growing more irritated by the second, especially as his efforts to dislodge Roman continued to prove fruitless.

Roman at least relented enough to lean back, taking his hands from Logan’s shoulders. “Well, if that’s the case—” He swept one arm out to the side, incredulous. “Care to explain what this was all about??”

Logan’s face screwed up, until he half blurted, half shouted, “It was for your birthday!”

“…What?”

Whatever Roman had been expecting, that wasn’t it. In fact, it took him a full four seconds to process what the other side had even said, before belatedly realizing that he was still sitting on top of Logan. Roman clambered to one side, and Logan quickly righted himself.

The awkward silence continued, until at last Logan spoke, though reluctantly, embarrassed, and avoiding eye contact at all costs. “I wanted to do something special… for your birthday.”

“But it’s not even my birthday until tomorrow!” Roman protested, before doing some mental math. “Oh! I mean— I guess, by this time of night—” He caught himself, then coughed. “Sorry, not really important, I suppose. …Continue?” He gestured to Logan, trying not to wince.

Logan folded his arms in front of him, still staring at the ground. “You always know exactly what to do for everyone else on their birthday.”

“Well, I do kind of have a leg up on that one. I am the idea guy…” Roman realized a half second too late, that may not have been helpful, or tactful for that matter; Logan hunched further in on himself. Roman hastily protested, “Hey, no, you get good presents for each of us!”

Logan scoffed. “Certainly, I knows things that appeal to each of you.”

“What’s wrong with getting people things they like?”

“Nothing. It’s just— in the end, that’s what they are. Things.” Logan fiddled with some blades of grass in front of him. “When you give one of us a present, it’s heartfelt. It has meaning. I wanted…” He scrunched his eyes shut; his forehead creased. “I wanted to be able to do something like that for you.”

Roman’s expression flickered with pained understanding. “Logan…”

“I brainstormed multiple potential presents— different ideas—“ Logan caught himself short on that one, and grimaced again. “But everything I could come up with just seemed…” He glanced away. “Inadequate.”

Roman said nothing, watching Logan with wide eyes.

“…So…” Logan started again, uncharacteristically quiet, and pointedly avoiding Roman’s gaze. “I instead asked myself, what I thought you would do, given the same circumstances.” He tilted his head in Roman’s direction. “You would make a grand gesture— something important to the other person. Something personal. This seemed…” He ducked his face, still refusing to make eye contact, but Roman could see him flushing again. “It seemed like a better idea at the time,” he finished in a small voice.

Again, Roman was left trying to process— and more importantly, trying to figure out what to say that wasn’t going to make Logan feel worse than he already did.

They sat in silence for a long minute, while Roman tried to marshal his words. Then, the creative side took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

“Logan,” he started.

Roman kept a careful eye on Logan as he spoke, and also made sure to keep his voice gentle.

“I do adore the theater,” he went on after a moment. “And the fact that you would go to such lengths to try to give me a special birthday means more than words can say. But…” He gestured to their surroundings. “Shakespeare in the Park? That’s not you.”

“That was rather the point,” Logan mumbled.

Such a sentiment made Roman instinctively want to clasp a hand to his chest, pained that Logan would regard himself in such a way. Instead, Roman reached slowly for Logan’s arm; this time, the logical side didn’t pull away, but he was tense and stiff under Roman’s touch.

“Logan,” Roman chided softly, “being heartfelt means, coming from the heart—”

“I do not need an etymology lesson,” Logan said, a defensive note creeping into his tone.

“From your heart,” Roman finished, cutting off Logan’s complaint. “It’s special because it’s uniquely yours.”

Logan’s expression and tone went flat. “Mine? What can Logic offer that would make a birthday special?” He finally met Roman’s eyes— only to fix him with a droll look. “Historical events that correspond to that particular day on the Gregorian Calendar? The exact position of the stars over Gainesville the night Thomas posted your first Vine? A critique of the concept of ‘birthdays’ for mental projections with no corporeal existence—”

“What— wait, do you know that?” Roman interrupted. “The stars one, I mean. Not the one with the existential dread.”

Logan gave him another look and gestured impatiently with one hand. “Yes. Obviously.”

“Yes,” Roman answered immediately.

“Yes— what?”

“Yes, that.” At Logan’s baffled look, Roman waved to the sky overhead. “The position of the stars!”

Logan looked even more confused. “I… could make you a star chart, I suppose—”

“No, here!” Roman insisted, gesturing above them again. “Look, just—” He leaned forward, taking hold of Logan’s hand and grasping it tightly, ignoring Logan’s stammered protests. “Focus on what it’s supposed to look like. Every detail, every bit of information.”

Logan’s expression was dubious, but, after a few seconds (and another reassuring squeeze from Roman), he exhaled, and closed his eyes.

Roman watched his fellow side for several moments— the way his lips pulled to one side, the way his forehead wrinkled, the focus etched into every line of his face. But then Roman could feel the knowledge welling within Logan, like an undercurrent of sound, thrumming just below audible range, and the creative side closed his eyes as well. 

He reached inside himself, for that spark that lived within him— similar to what he was feeling from Logan, and yet, wholly different. Then, his mind reached for Logan’s.

The instant they met, Roman could feel it— all of the information Logan was bringing to the surface— and let it translate through him. He felt the imagination shift around them, but didn’t open his eyes at first.

It wasn’t until he heard Logan’s gasp that Roman finally looked.

Then his mouth hung open, all powers of speech gone.

The night sky glimmered brilliantly overhead, a million facets of light sparkling like so many fairy lights. The moon was gone, and the sky was clear, without a trace of clouds or haze. Roman had allowed their imaginary stars to shine far brighter and more vibrantly than they would have actually been, with the Milky Way clearly visible as it stretched from horizon to horizon. To call the image above them ‘breathtaking’, while certainly accurate, seemed grossly understated, and both Roman and Logan stared heavenward for a long minute in appreciative silence. 

“…Tell me what we’re looking at,” Roman said at last in an entreating whisper.

It took only a little coaxing on Roman’s part to convince Logan to break his reverie, and describe the various stars and constellations and planets above them. Before long, they were both laying on the ground on their backs, pointed in opposite directions but with their heads resting next to one another, as Logan pointed out the constellation Gemini.

“According Greek myth,” Logan elaborated, “the twins it depicts are specifically Castor and Pollux—”

“Brave warriors both!” Roman interjected, gesturing excitedly. “They sailed on the Argo— joined the hunt for the Calydonian Boar— and they rescued their sister, Helen of Troy, from none other than Theseus himself! And of course,” he sighed, letting one hand fall back to his chest, the other reaching wistfully to constellation in question. “What they are most famous for. Pollux, the immortal demigod son of Zeus, sacrificing half of his immortality to his dying half-brother, Castor.” Roman let out a longer sigh, resting both of his hands over his heart.

“…Yes,” Logan murmured, glancing sideways with a look of faint bemusement. Then he returned his gaze to the view above. “Thus, securing them their position among the stars,” he finished quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Roman look over at him, and though he couldn’t be sure, Logan didn’t think he imagined the smile that graced the other side’s face.

They went on in this fashion for the better part of the night: Logan describing the various celestial bodies and myths associated with them, and Roman filling in the rest of their stories in his own dramatic fashion.

In one quiet moment, when Logan was searching for the next constellation, Roman took the opportunity to take in the sky altogether, eyes roaming across every star and galaxy. Then his gaze drifted downwards and to the side, where they fell on Logan, who wore a look of intense concentration. Flecks of light reflected off the lenses of his glasses.

“Logan?”

“Mm?”

“This is perfect. Thank you.”

Roman twisted his head, and pressed a kiss to Logan’s temple. Logan, who hadn’t drawn his gaze away from the sky before, immediately snapped his head around, once again flustered and red-faced, not knowing what to say.

“I— ah— I-I… I don’t…”

“Just say, ‘happy birthday’,” Roman prompted with a small smile.

It took several seconds, but at last, Logan managed a quiet and earnest, “Happy birthday, Roman.”

“It is,” Roman agreed, nestling his head into the crook between Logan’s neck and shoulder. He was pleased to note that Logan didn’t shy away; after a moment, he even rested his own head against Roman’s jaw.

They stayed that way for the next few hours, even after they ran out of constellations and stars to name.

They were simply content to lay there, together, and take in the sky.

[sleeping-graves]

Healing Him - V/Reader - Part 1/??

It was just another day of watching the kids. Although its tiresome, you still love taking care of the youth. Luckily for you, you aren't doing this alone. You were helping out at an orphanage with your sister Kyrie, and boy are you grateful for her help. The kids liked you of course but they just seem to gravitate towards her.

"Hey (Y/N), do you mind handing over those cereal boxes?" Kyrie asked you as she stood on a ladder. You both were tidying up kitchen as the kids were playing outside. "Oh yeah sure!" you grab the box and hop over to her. You both give each other a little smile before interrupted by crying.

Locking eyes, you two hurriedly made your way outside to see some children circled around another who was on the ground clutching his leg and sobbing. Being visibly confused, a kid filled you in. "Miss (Y/N), Miss Kyrie! Noct fell off the tree and hit his leg really hard!" You thank them and looked over at your sibling. "You know what to do (Y/N)."

"Yes of course." you immediately went over to the boy, holding him close to you. From what you can examine, he must have sprained knee real bad. You place you hand gently on the injured area, closing your eyes. "Everything will be alright now. Do no worry Noct.." Just then, a glow and a sigil appeared under your hand. After only a couple of moments, the injury was back to normal as though it never happened. Noct slowly stopped crying and gave you the biggest smile. "Thank you Miss (Y/N)!" And with that he have you a slight peck on the cheek and ran off into the playground with his friends again.

"Be careful ok boys?" Kyrie yells over at them as she comes closer to you. "Thanks again. I don't know what I would do without you." You get up and give her a smile of glee. "Its no problem Kyrie. Its the least I can die for these kids." Patting down your clothes from the dirty, you let out a huff. "Now, we should get back to tidying up the kitchen. Shall we?"

Time passes and its quiet throughout the orphanage. Kyrie was putting the last kid to sleep as you were resting up from the eventful day with some hot chocolate. "Man.. can this day get any crazier?.." There was the jinx.

"Kyrie! (Y/N)!" you heard shouts coming from the main hallway, echoing through the building. You immediately recognized the voice, Nico? Adrenaline coursed through you as you raced over and bumped into the two females.

"W-what's wrong? What's going on Nico?!" you practically screamed at her. "Its Nero and V! They've been bad up badly, we really need your powers (Y/N)!" Nero was a familiar name of course, but not the other person, V. But now its not the time to ask questions. You and Kyrie looked at each other and nodded and agreement, and proceeded to head to the hospital.

Even though it was a rough bumpy ride, you don't blame the driver for wanting to get there was fast of possible. The three of you bolted to the ER where you saw the two badly injured men laying in agony. The doctors try to tell you to back off but Nico immediately cuts them off informing them about your healing powers. They hesitate, but cave in and let you three in.

Seeing their pained faces made a pit form in your stomach, but you knew you had to be there for them. "They are both pretty banged up but I advise you to heal Nero first. He took quite a hit for V." Nico informs you quickly as she holds a terrified Kyrie. " A-Alright ..um.." Pacing over to the said boy, you noticed countless bruises and the such. Just to double check you looked over at the other male. He was a thin fragile goth that was covered in tattoos, and while it looked like he took a couple of good hits it was no where close to as bad as Neros so you set your priorities.

You daintily place your hands on his chest, closing your eyes so you can focus. In a second the sigil summons under your hands again, glowing brightly. Letting out slow breaths, you let your powers do its job. Ever so slowly, Neros injuries started reversing, wounds closing and bruises disappearing.

While you were working, Nero slightly cracked his eyes open before letting out a groan and shifting his head a little in his pillow. Kyrie let out a soft gasp and went over the his bedside, gently placing her hand on his cheek. "Oh Nero.. what did I tell you about being safe?.."

He lets out a ragged couple of coughs before he slowly looked up at her sorrowfully. " Im sorry Kyrie, but we were ambushed... I took the brunt of the force because Shakespeare over there can't take alot of hits..." She sniffs as she carefully held his head close, just grateful for his safety. You took a deep breath as you finally finished, drawing back your hands. Healing the body as damaged as his really drains your energy but you had to push through.

Nico taps on your shoulder. " Hey um im not rushin, but now Mr Tattoos needs your help.." Agreeing, you head over to the bed next to you. When you get to his bedside, you finally take in the sight of this V person. He seemed a little roughed up but due to his fragile stature was enough to put a dent on him. He had a slight pained expression but his dark locks covered it with grace. You were almost entranced by all his beautiful markings that almost covered his entire body. Ugh snap out of it you need to help this man!

Papping your cheeks a bit, you straighten your back and let out another huff, getting your body ready once again. You slip through his vest and place your hands on his covered chest, closing your eyes as the sigil appears. Like with Nero, his wounds began to disappear as well, body refreshed.

You hear a deep grunt followed by a noise of movement. Opening your eyes, they lock with the males jaded eyes, not wanting to let go. It seemed like eternity before Nico let out a awkward cough. "O-Oh sorry! You should um, be better now." you respond as you pull back your hands to your sides.

The man attempted to sit up, letting out audible signs of discomfort before you helped him along. He took a second to breath. "I must thank you little healer, although I must apologize for putting strain on you for fixing me." he lets out as soft as a whisper. You panic as those words, " No no its fine I promise! Its worth it to make others feel much better." you really didn't want to make him feel guilty. Yes you were pushing your energy more then you should right now but this was an emergency. "If you say so, but can I be graced by your name?" he lets out a little smirk. "You can call me V." Oh boy did his voice and smirk do wonders to your body. You flushed up, blood rushing to your cheeks. "M-My name is (Y/N).."

"(Y/N).." Your name just rolls off his tounge. "It's a beautiful name. I thank fate for bringing me to you." Your heart was pounding in your chest, everything becoming a second thought. That was until Nico came and wrapped a arm around your shoulder.

"Alright alright, V stop being flirt towards your savior and get some rest. You too (Y/N). Don't think I don't notice you're taking deeper breaths." That's Nico for you. Caring and quick to notice the details.

"Thanks Nico. I think I will." you responded as you fixed your hair. "You get some good sleep V. Glad I helped you." He let out a "hmm" with a smile as a response, "I hope that we get to know each other on a better foot. May the stars align in our favor." You smile back shyly as you and Nico start to head back to her van, her telling you that she'll pick up Kyrie later as she needs time alone with Nero.

As you sit in the van as it drives through the streets, you start to think about the most wholesome couple you've ever known, Kyrie and Nero. As much as his hardheadedness scares you, you know how much they love each other. You would always see them showing such compassion to each other and honestly, every time you would feel a tang of jealousy.

You were not lucky with love so you've been single practically your entire life. So when you locked eyes with that poetic male, your body felt a whole new feeling. Clutching your chest a bit, your face flushes up when remembering the moment. When were you going to meet him again? Hopefully like he said, that the stars would align in your favor.

And aligned they did, couple days later. With all the demons around and the Qliphoth infestation getting worse they needed all the help you can get. Nero came to the orphanage and asked for your hand in joining their party. They couldn't waste time by sitting around the hospital whenever they got injured, they needed a healer on hand. Despite Kyrie pleading you to not go out of fear you'll get killed, you wanted to help along side the demon hunters. You had to.

You say your goodbyes to your sister and the kids, then you were off.

"V and Dante are already off clearing some areas." Nico informs you as she drives you and Nero over to them. "Just be prepared when we get there because they may need your powers, those idiots always get banged up badly all the time." She huffs out some cigarette smoke, keeping focused on the road. "Of course." you reply.

You rest your back against the couch, letting your body get the rest it needs for your upcoming task. You were honestly anxious to be dipping into demon territory but you had faith in the hunters to protect you.

Oh right, V is one of them. You're finally going to meet him again.. Closing your eyes, you smile from excitement. Is he going to remember you? Hopefully he does, you want to get to know him better even if this isn't the best of settings.

After a long bumpy drive, the van finally arrived at a rural area. The buildings weren't as broken down and collapsed as the structures you saw on your way before. The van pulls up to one that had the lights on on the first floor, catching your interest. Guess this was their meetup place or base.

"Alright, here we are." Nico states from her driver seat. "Might wanna show (Y/N) around the base ya know? Get her settled in. I gotta go pick up Shakespeare and Dante real quick." "Yeah yeah I heard ya." Nero replies annoyingly, being woken up from his nap. You both hop out from the van before she skids off into the distance.

Nero shows you the inners of the base, and it was better looking than you thought it was going to be. Of course there was the occasional hole in the wall or floorboards creaking, but it was pretty lively with all the equipment and decor. He even introduced you to two new faces, Lady and Trish. After that was over with, he flopped onto a couch in the living room, immediately falling asleep. Man he must really like sleeping. You sit on another couch parallel to his, patting your hands on your thighs, impatiently awaiting the others. Nervousness takes over your mind, further enhancing your worrying. Will he remember you? Maybe he forgot? Oh god hopefully he wont be annoyed that him and the others are gonna have to protect you. Are you being a bother being here?

As if it wasn't painfully obvious from your loud patting, Lady noticed your sour mood. She goes over and sits next to you, handing you one of two hot chocolates. "Want one? You seem like you really need it." she says with a giggle. "Oh, thank you!" you reply as you gently take the drink from her, staring at the liquid within the glass. "Yeah.. Im just nervous i'm gonna be a bother to you guys since i'm gonna need the be protected.." you spill out with a sad smile. Lady blinks before letting out a small laugh. "You don't need to worry about that! You're fine, we really need you so we don't mind doing a little more fighting for you. We can handle it, trust me." she says with a confident tone. You felt so refreshed hearing her confidence, letting out a sigh. "Thank you, I needed that.."

Lady pats your back, nodding. "Hey, its no problem (Y/N). Besides, can't have you being down if wanna get closer to V." Huh? You blush a bit looking at her with a confused face before she lets out a childish giggle and walks off sipping her drink. Did.. Nico tell everyone about how you got so flustered around V? You were so going to chew her out later.

Some time passes before you hear the creak of a door opening before hearing multiple footsteps. You hear a new voice which you assumed was Dante. They made their way to the door frame to the living room before said male noticed you. "Oh hey you must be (Y/N), our healer!" he strides his way over to you, holding out his hand. "Names Dante. Devil hunter by day, pizza lover by night." he continues with a playful wink. You let out a snort before completing the hand gesture. "Yes that's me, nice to meet you Dante."

"And i hope you remember mine?" a deep voice cuts through the conversation. You recognized it to be him. You turn your head and there he was. V. He has a smirk on his face, walking over to your side on the couch. You stammer up, clutching the edge of your shirt from nervousness and happiness. Nervous hes in front of you again but you're honestly super happy he didn't shove the memory of you out of his head.

"V! Of course I remember you." you reply letting out shy smile. "How can I not? Pretty impossible." He lets out a satisfied "hmm" before heading out of the room. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You were gonna have to eventually not be such a mess around him, you thought to yourself.

Everyone chatted and socialized a bit , later on getting some rest for the next day. As you lay down on the tattered bed in your room, you think to yourself. Tomorrow will be your first mission with the hunters. You'll need to be on your toes or you'll be demon dinner. You're ready for this. Feeling confident, you finally close your eyes and let your body dream.

"Mornin' time (Y/N)! Gotta get up and prepare yourself!" Nico says with a muffled voice behind the door, knocking the door twice before walking away. You groan, stretching your limbs as you yawn. Looking over at the small window tells you that the sun is barely rising. Man they really like to get it done early don't they? After you get dressed, you head down to the dinning room and see V sipping some coffee while reading from a small book and Nico tinkering around with one of her projects. You catch the goths eye and see him smile at you, closing his book in one swift motion.

"Good morning to you (Y/N). Hope you're doing well." him greeting you. "I am, though I am nervous about my first mission.." you scratch the back on your neck, letting out a laugh. He sips again and sets his cup down gently, toying with his cane. "There's no need to worry, rest assured I will protect you." he finished with yet another one of his smirks. Blood rushed to your cheeks as you fidget with your clothing. Jesus this man knows how to make your heart flutter.

Satisfied with your reaction, he makes his way out of the dinning room to the front door. When the door closed behind him, you hear Nico snicker. "V and (Y/N) sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-"

"Nico!" you embarrassingly shouted. She snickered some more and went back to her experimenting. You pinch the bridge of nose while walking over to the cupboards. "I swear you're so childish sometimes.." you say as you let out a pout.

After some breakfast and some pep talk from Nico, you were ready for this. You, Nico, Dante, Nero and V huddled in front of the van, making plans. "Ok so here's how its gonna be today. Since (Y/N) is here with us now, we need to keep more eyes out for those pests. Dante, Nero you can do your thing. V, you're taking (Y/N) alongside you. Not to be rude but since you're weaker compared to the white hair bros, you need her next to you more than them." You look over at her and see her give you a wink before turning back to talk more to V. You're not sure whether to be glad or mad. Mixture of both.

"Well, looks like the stars align for us again." V's sultry voice draws you out of your thoughts. "I-I guess they did." you reply shyly. You felt like such a shy dork around him. He clanked the bottom end of his cane onto the ground with a metallic "clang" and leans on it. "Well, shall we?" he gestures to the rubbled road to the right of you out to danger.

You gulp, but shake your head. No, you shouldn't be scared. You have V by your side. You have to put faith in him.

You nod at him, and proceed to walk towards the area, him pacing himself beside you.

This was it, your first mission. Clenching and stretching your hand makes you pumped. You were gonna help make a difference. Lets just hope you being a flustered mess around this male doesn't make the mission harder. Who are you kidding of course it is.

[theatricks]

The Epilogue is Behind the Mask - English Translation

Here is a Google Drive with the videos if you'd like to watch along!

Chapter 1: A Tale of Love and Isolation

Junna: "To be, or not to be. That is the question." Junna: 'To let things continue as they are, or to not. To me now, that is the most difficult of questions.' Junna: Phew... Junna: ("Hamlet", one of Shakespeare's four great tragedies. The official title is "The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark".) Junna: (A resplendent royal court where nobles gather... And beneath that squirms ugly jealousy, intrigue, and revenge...) Junna: (No matter how may times you reread it, there's still more to be impressed by...) Junna: (One day, I'd also like to take part in this kind of sparkling play...) Junna: (...Okay, it's decided.) Junna: (Today I'll read a resplendent drama to get my motivation up!) Junna: (Speaking of... Of course, there's Shakespeare, but...) Junna: (No, it has to be "The Phantom of the Opera"!) Junna: (A Paris opera house, a beautiful songstress... A drama of love and hate unfolding on the grand and glamorous world of the Stage.) Junna: (I've been fascinated by that blindingly beautiful tale since I was young...) Junna: (I'll soak up its radiance and draw closer to the Star...!)

Junna: (It's gone... It's all gone.) Junna: (Not just the "The Phantom of the Opera" play, but everything from the novel to the reference books has been borrowed.) Junna: (Is someone researching it? I might have to go to the town library...) Junna: Oh? Nana: ............ Junna: (What's she reading that has her so serious? ...Wait, that's...) Nana: ............ Junna: Naaana. Nana: Ah, Junna-chan. Junna: So it's you, I see. The one who's researching "The Phantom of the Opera". Nana: Ah... Were you looking for these? Sorry, I didn't mean to hog them all to myself... Junna: So, why are you gathering all these materials? Are you writing a script for "The Phantom of the Opera" or something? Nana: Fufufufu, Junna-chan, bulls-eye♪ Nana: It was a request from my middle school drama club teacher. Junna: Is that... the teacher who encouraged you to go to this school? Nana: That's the one. She's still working hard for the drama club even now. Though still small, apparently they're members are increasing... Nana: She said she wants a play that could become a club tradition, one that would rejuvenate the club. Junna: So that's why you're working on a script... Nana: Yeah. Seems she remembered all this time that I used to write scripts. Nana: Me being here, and meeting you and the others, it's all thanks to Sensei. Nana: So, I wanted to repay her. Junna: What a nice story... Then you have to do your best to write it by all means! Nana: Yeah. So... I was thinking that I'd write a script for "The Phantom of the Opera" since I've had an interest in it for a while. Junna: That's the first I've heard you had an interest in it. Nana: This might be the first time I've mentioned it♪ Nana: The loneliness and suffering of Erik, the 'Angel of Music'... And his love for Christine. Nana: It's heartbreaking, but in a very passionate way... I love it. Junna: I know, isn't it? I like it, too. I love it. Nana: Junna-chan, too...? Junna: You know, I got completely absorbed in "The Phantom of the Opera" for a time while the musical was being performed here in Japan. Junna: I read the original work and watched the movie. Also, it was only a video, but I saw an even older musical, too. Nana: Wo~w. So you know everything there is to know. Junna: I wouldn't go that far... But, if there's anything I can help you with, let me know. Nana: Junna-chan... Thank you. Nana: The truth is, I'm at a bit of an impasse, so I was thinking of returning to the dorms and asking for your help. Nana: Will you lend me a hand? Junna: Of course. For you and your teacher. Nana: Thanks. Your cooperation will be a tremendous help♪ Junna: With that decided, I better reread the original work and the play again. Nana: Me too. When I watch the musical, I'm floored all over again. Such a grand and glamorous play, do you really need anything else? Junna: I know, right? It's an eternal masterpiece in the world of musicals! Junna: Oh, oops... Raising your voice in the library is forbidden... Junna: So... What sort of script do you plan to write? It's going to be performed by middle schoolers so you can't really go with 'grand and glamorous'. Nana: That's true. I was hoping to write the type of script that those watching could empathize with, even if it's being performed by middle schoolers. Junna: I see... It'll be difficult, but it's worth doing. Nana: Yeah. What I'm worried about the most right now is how to write the mysterious lead... the Phantom. Junna: True, the way the Phantom is perceived changes according to how he's written. Junna: "The Phantom of the Opera" has been made into a play many times by the hands of many different directors, but... Junna: It feels like the way the Phantom is portrayed changes a little bit every time. Nana: In the original novel, the Phantom is portrayed as an enigmatic individual... Nana: In another play, the story is spun through the eyes of the heroine Christine... It's getting a bit confusing... Junna: That will happen when you try to read this amount of materials in one sitting. Nana: That may be true, but... Apparently they want to perform it for the freshman opening ceremony, so I wanted to write down as much as I could as quickly as I could... Junna: Geez... And I'm saying that's unreasonable. Junna: Although, I understand getting fired up when you start something new. Nana: Junna-chan... Junna: Should we get started right away, then? But, if we're going to do this, let's make it the best. Right? Nana: Yeah! Then, what should we start work on first? Junna: For the time being, it's got to be the way the Phantom is portrayed. Did you have a plan? Nana: Hmmm. If we're just talking about the Phantom role, he's an isolated musician overflowing with wisdom... Nana: To hide his unsightly face, he lives a life brooding in the basement of the opera house. The reason for the wisdom that gets him called the 'Angel of Music'... Nana: I was thinking I would decipher that in the materials, but there's too many, so I haven't yet... Junna: The fact that there are so many materials on it is one of the reasons it's considered a classic. It's a tale that's been loved by many over a long period of time. Junna: But, what's important isn't the past materials, but what you want to convey... Right? Nana: Ah...! Junna: Your theme... Shouldn't the first step be to make it clear? Nana: My theme... Nana: Yeah... You're right, it's exactly like you say. Nana: What I want to convey and put into "The Phantom of the Opera" for Sensei and the others... Nana: ...... Nana: For those on stage to perform with all their might, and for those watching to have something left behind in their hearts. Nana: I'd be nice if I could write a script like that. Maybe that's... my theme. Junna: Yeah... I think that's a fantastic, precious theme. Bananice! Nana: Junna-chan... Junna: I have a weighty responsibility as your assistant! Let's do our best, Nana! Nana: Yeah! Karen: Banana, Junjun! You're writing a script!? You're doing a play!? Both: Waah--!?

Chapter 2: Everyone's Banana is a Loved Banana

Nana: K-Karen-chan!? Karen: And? So? You're writing a script!? You're doing a play!? Mahiru: Karen-chan, you have to be quiet in the library... Karen: Oh, right, sorry...! Junna: It's rare for Karen to come here. Are you escorting Tsuyuzaki-san? Karen: Hmph, even I come to the library, you know! Karen: I mean, I'm only here today because Mahiru-chan needed to return a book, but... Junna: Yeah, that's what I figured. Karen: More importantly, what kind of script? What kind~? Mahiru: Umm.. Could we hear more about it? If it's a secret, then... Nana: Don't worry, Mahiru-chan. I'll explain properly from the beginning♪

Karen: Oo~h, so it's like that. Mahiru: That's amazing, Banana-chan. I'm sure your teacher will love your script. Nana: That... would be nice. I'm still completely inexperienced, though♪ Mahiru: "The Phantom of the Opera", huh...? My Grandma loved it so we went to see it together many times. Mahiru: At first I couldn't understand Christine having so much empathy for the Phantom, or how she felt rejecting his confession, or having to choose between lovers... Mahiru: But, every time we saw it, my Grandma would give a different explanation... It taught me the complexity of human relationships. Mahiru: I'm sure if I watched it now, I'd have an even greater understanding of the characters' feelings. Karen: I want to hurry and read the script Banana writes~! Junna: Like she said, she's just now writing it. You're so impatient, Karen. Mahiru: But, with this amount of materials... even just reading them seems tough. Karen: Butbut, if you just start writing, won't it work itself out!? How does it go, y'know, "pear exaggerates"... the... the ginger? Mahiru: "Fear exaggerates the danger", Karen-chan. Karen: Yeah, that! Banana, I'll lend a hand, too! Mahiru: I'd also... like to be of assistance. Karen: Aaalright! Let's all collaborate on Banana's script making! Junna: Hold on, Karen, don't just advance the conversation as you please. That's for Nana herself to decide. Nana: It's okay, Junna-chan. I was thinking I'd have everyone take a look at it when I was done writing anyway♪ Karen: Yay! I get to read Banana's script! Junna: If everyone puts their heads together, we should definitely make a great work. Karen: Okay, I'm off! Gotta go to the lesson room! Mahiru: Oh, geez, Karen-chan. You can't run in the library! Junna: In like a storm, out like a storm. Nana: She's always full of energy, that Karen-chan. Junna: I wish she wouldn't keep running in circles like that, though... Junna: I'm going to head out for now, too. Nana, you continue to read the materials. Nana: Yes, let me to do just that. Junna: I'll be back. You can't handle that mountain on your own, right? Nana: Yeah. You're a lifesaver♪ Junna: I know. Well, see you later. Nana: Take caaare. Nana: Oookay. With everyone helping me, I have to give it my all, too.

Chapter 3: An Unendable Tale

Nana: Maya-chan, Kuro-chan. Thank you so much for gathering here today♪ Nana: What I handed out just now was the first version of the script I wrote for "The Phantom of the Opera". Nana: The middle schoolers' parts, the cast number, and the scene changes I tried to arrange in my own style, but... Nana: The final conclusion is all I have left to write... Claudine: So if we put our heads together to come up with an idea for that... and it makes it into the final manuscript, that'd be good, wouldn't it? Nana: Yes! I look forward to cooperating with you! Maya: Same here, thank you very much for the valuable opportunity. Maya: A script for your former teacher... It's an honor to engage with a work filled with such sincerity. Claudine: Nana's "Le Fantome de l' Opera"... Claudine: You said it was the first version, but... isn't it close to perfect? Claudine: There's still a lot I want to say about it though, so prepare yourself! Nana: Yeah! Point out all you want! Karen: Sorry for making you wait~! We got the opera costumes! They were made by alumni, apparently! Mahiru: So the upperclassmen also performed "The Phantom of the Opera". You're well-informed, Junna-chan. Junna: Fufu, this is something you can find out easily by investigating. Well, shall we get started right away? Karen: A play, a play, I can't wait~! Mahiru: Karen-chan, this is for the sake of Banana-chan's script, remember? Karen: Yeah, I know~! Karen: But, this is the first time I've done a performance in order to help complete a script. It's kinda exciting! Nana: I thought that maybe by seeing you all perform, the characters would start to shift. Sorry for having you help out. Karen: It's fine, it's fine, bananice! Junna: Remember, until the end, the main point is script making. You're not allowed to insert your own ad-libs, okay? Karen: I knooow, Junjun! And, and, what about the cast? Nana: Fufufufu, for you, Karen-chan, please play the role of Christine's lover, Raoul. Karen: Oooh~ I'm Raoul~! Hmmm.... My first choice was the Phantom, but no worries, just leave it to me! Karen: And, whoever could "my darling Christine" be!? Nana: It's Junna-chan♪ Junna: Eh, me? Nana: Yeah. Perfect, right? Karen: Along with Christine's dress! ...Yeah! It really does fit! Mahiru: It's true. You have the habit of keeping good posture, so you really give off the vibe of a songstress whose voice can carry. Nana: Yeah, I thought you'd be able to express Christine not just on the inside, but on the outside, too. Junna: Nana... Junna: Got it. It's an important role, but I'll take on that responsibility. Claudine: After Christine comes the Phantom, right? Nana: Ah, about that... Can I do it? Nana: If I try it myself, I might get a better feeling for the emotions of the role. And if so... then I think I'll be able to write the final scene. Karen: Yepyep, that's a good idea! I mean, this is your script, after all! Mahiru: Yeah. I want to see your Phantom. Maya: The one writing the script is you. We're merely playing your cast. Claudine: The opera's sub-cast is interesting, too. I'll put my all into performing whatever role I'm responsible for! Nana: Everyone, thank you. With that, I'll quickly announce the rest...

Nana: Haa... Haa... Oookay, time for a ten minute rest. Karen: Phew... I knew it, the lines are tough~! There's so many musical scenes too, I'm all worn out~ Mahiru: Good work, Karen-chan. I prepared sports drinks for everyone, so drink up. Karen: Yaaay, my throat was so parched, you're a lifesaver~ Maya: Saijo-san. Would you like to go over the scene where we meet one more time? Claudine: I can't refuse an invite from Tendo Maya. Let's do it. Junna: Nana, good work. You had a good feel for the Phantom, didn't you? Nana: Junna-chan, too. You conveyed Christine's anguish really well. Junna: Thanks. But, I want to delve a little further into the character during rehearsal. Mahiru: Ah, should we prepare the costumes now? Junna-chan, I laid out Christine's dress for you. Junna: Thank you, Tsuyuzaki-san. Junna: It's been awhile since I've worn a dress... I have to make sure I can still wear a costume like this. Karen: We brought Banana's Phantom costume, too! Karen: So, then, Banana~ I have just one favor to ask~ Nana: Fufu, Karen-chan, you want to try it on, don't you? The Phantom's costume. Karen: Wawah, how did you know!? Nana: I understand everything, you know♪ Karen: Th-That's our Banana... Junna: Anyone would know, seeing that greedy look. Mahiru: I want to get a peek of Karen-chan's Phantom, too~ Nana: Yepyep, okay, Karen-chan, want to try it on for a bit? Karen: Yaaay! Just a sec, hold on! Umm, put on the cape, then the mask... like this?

Karen: Ta-dah! From his nest in the cellar, the Phantom appears! Mahiru: Waa~h, Karen-chan, so cool♪ Claudine: With a cheerful Phantom like this around, the people of the opera are just going to laugh... Karen: Hmph! Will you say that when you see this acting!? Karen: "I am the phantom of the opera! I am the ugliest thing in this world! Even as this body burns in the flames of hell, I dream of heaven!" Nana: Yeah, yeah, that's cool! In the case of Karen-chan playing the role... Nana: Why not a different interpretation of the Phantom... How about trying an even more cheerful one♪ Karen: A- A cheerful Phantom!? Uh, uhmm... Karen: "Hah hah ha! Christine, nice weather today, no!? Quite so! Despite the light not reaching the opera's cellar!" Nana: Ahahah! Okay, next try adding the word banana into your lines♪ Karen: Ba- Banana!? Uhhh, uhmm... Karen: "Ch-...Christine, tonight is the night I listen to your song. Your voice will not slip. And that is because..." Karen: "I picked up and threw the banana peel that fell on the stage into the trash! Now you can sing to your heart's content!" Claudine: Pfft, fufu, ahahahah! What's with that Phantom! Maya: A wonderful ad-lib, was it not? Mahiru: Yepyep, Karen-chan's acting was really good! Nana: Maybe I should have a cheerful Phantom, too? With that likability, he could have a lot of friends, I bet♪ Mahiru: More like 'The Friend of the Opera'♪ Junna: That's not... "The Phantom of the Opera"... Nana: Ahahaha. ...Oh, look at the time. Nana: Okay, we're starting the rehearsal soon. Everyone, change into you costumes, please. All: Oookay. Junna: Geez, because of Karen's weird Phantom, I'm exhausted. Junna: I just hope the image of your Phantom doesn't crumble. Nana: No worries, no worries. It was super fun, after all♪ Junna: So... feeling like you can write it? The ending to your script. Nana: Yeah... I think so, probably. Junna: ......? Nana: It's fine, no worries. I had everyone's help, after all. I'll manage it somehow or another♪ Junna: Nana...?

Chapter 4: The Changing and the Unchanging

Nana: Good work, everyone! Today's snack is banana muffins♪ Mahiru: Waah, they smell good today, too. Karen-chan, which do you want? Karen: Oooh, today's seem a bit uneven, maybe!? But, they look tasty~~~! Maya: I agree. Even when they're small in size, their deliciousness remains the same... That is the nature of Daiba-san's sweets... Claudine: She says, while nonchalantly taking the biggest one. Nana: Here. You have one, too, Junna-chan. Junna: Thanks, Nana. Junna: It feels weird being handed a muffin by someone who was just acting as the Phantom. Nana: Fufufu. It'd be great if there were that sort of scene in the play, though. Claudine: Putting the muffins aside... Nana's script is pretty modern. Nana: Huh, you think so? Claudine: I'm talking about the story development. The line delivery feels affected and very classic-like, but... Claudine: You shortened the 'source', and because of that, you wrote more deeply about the character's emotions in the 'adaptation', right? Claudine: So, beyond the story being easy to get into, the details are easy to grasp once you see it fully. Maya: That's true. When you leave the moral but remove the formality, the entertainment value increases. Mahiru: Yeah. I think your script is becoming more and more interesting! Nana: It's thanks to all of your opinions♪ Karen: Then, we'll just have to give you even more opinions! Umm... ummmm... Karen: Oh, I know! When the Phantom and Christine first meet! Karen: I kinda think it should happen with more of a, like, 'gwaah'... How do I put it, don't you want a 'ghghghh' feeling? Mahiru: Are you saying you want a sense of tension? Karen: Yeah! 'Loneliness' is a common feature of their stories, so I think it'd be nice to have a sense of them being quietly drawn to each other! Nana: I see, I see. True, maybe there is too much talking between them there. Claudine: It needed a translation from Mahiru, but that's a pretty good comment coming from you. Karen: That's a non-non, Kuro-chan! Claudine: Yeah, yeah, a stage girl is always evolving, I know. Karen: Sh-She got me~! Nana: Ahaha♪ Karen-chan, you're going to have to come up with a new line soon. Maya: ...By the way, Daiba-san. Do you think you'll be able to write the story's finale now? Nana: Ah... Nana: I plan to put the finishing touches on it tomorrow, one way or another! Sorry for making you wait, everyone. Karen: Banana, are you having trouble? Nana: Yeah. Just for the final scene, I can't come up with the lines for the Phantom's feelings. Claudine: His feelings, huh? Karen: Feelings... feelings... hmmm! If you put it more concretely, I'll come up with all sorts of comments! Nana: Yeah, thanks, Karen-chan... Mahiru: ...Oh, yeah! Mahiru: Tendo-san, you've been to an opera, right? Mahiru: It might be of use to Banana-chan, so what do you think of telling her what it's like? Claudine: Stop right there, Mahiru! If you want to know about opera, shouldn't you be asking me!? Mahiru: Eeh...?

Claudine: In the fine arts capital of the world, Paris, is the brilliantly shining opera house, the Palais Garnier! Claudine: Its gorgeous exterior, said to be a classic example of the Beaux-Arts style. Its magnificent interior, adorned in tones of gold and red. And, furthermore-- Claudine: The top world-class performing arts that people seek to create for that supreme theater. Karen: Bo-za...? I don't really get it, but it sounds pretty cool! Kuro-chan, that must be an amazing theater! Claudine: N' est-ce pas? That's right, it is amazing. Claudine: First-class ballet and world-famous concerts are held there, but, being the opera house it is, the opera are in a class of their own. Claudine: Existing as a living thing, continuing to evolve throughout the centuries--that's what opera is! Maya: There is no question about that. Maya: Music and theater, dance and art, a complete work that encompasses them all--and that place is one which specializes in the musical performance of opera. Claudine: The opera house is where you can walk hand-in-hand with the history of opera, it's a beautiful and brilliant living witness! Nana: Ooo~h! How educational! Can you tell me more about the opera? Maya: Well, then, allow me the presumption. Maya: Opera's history is long, so it tends to be considered extremely conservative... Maya: A cycle of a great many innovative presentation techniques and inventions has bestowed varied influences on our culture, no, our civilization. Maya: There have been times when those traditions have been destroyed, as well, but even now in the modern day, there are measures being taken to preserve the method of presentation called opera. Claudine: Well said, Tendo Maya! Yes, both the changing and the unchanging coexist. Claudine: In order to protect what's important to us or what we don't want to give up, there are parts of ourselves that we have to twist, right? Claudine: In that way, so that opera lives on, the opera house continues even at this moment to fascinate everybody with it's charm. Claudine: After all, "The Phantom of the Opera", which takes place in that theater, is still handed down to this day... right? Nana: The changing and the unchanging coexist, huh? I heard something good~ Nana: I'll make the best use of this knowledge of opera and properly write the finale! Karen: Banana, I'll help!! Nana: Okay. Thanks, Karen-chan♪ Junna: ............

Junna: (It didn't seem like Nana had come up with a finale yet, I wonder if she'll be okay...) Mahiru: Junna-chaaan. Junna: Tsuyuzaki-san? Mahiru: Want to return to the dorms together? Junna: What are Karen and the others doing? Mahiru: Seems like they're still talking about opera. Mahiru: More importantly... I wonder if Banana-chan will be okay? Junna: You, too? Mahiru: Yeah. Not just me, I think everyone is worried. Mahiru: She said she couldn't come up with the lines for the Phantom, but... Mahiru: The lines she wrote for the other scenes really captured the Phantom's heart. Junna: That's true... Junna: In that case, maybe she's worrying over something she hasn't told us about. Mahiru: Something she hasn't told us about? Junna: ...When she returns to the dorms, I'll try talking to her, just the two of us. Leave this matter to me.

Chapter 5: Hamlet Says

Nana: "Nevertheless, we cannot be together"... Hmm, I wonder if that line's a bit too ordinary... Junna: Nana. I made coffee, want some? Nana: Ah, please. Junna: It's hot, so don't burn your tongue. Nana: Okay. I'll puff on it while drinking♪ Junna: Fufu, you're not a kid anymore, you know. Nana: Yeah. ...Junna-chan, thank you♪ Junna: For what? Nana: A lot♪ Junna: ......! Nana: But, it's fine now♪ Junna: You thought of it? The last scene. Nana: Yep. It all just came to me, so don't worry♪ Nana: Or so I'd like to say, but you'll definitely see through the lie. Junna: ...Will you tell me about it? Nana: Ahaha, no need for the seriousness. Nana: I thought I could do it myself somehow, but looks like I'll need your help, after all. Nana: So, can I discuss it with you? Junna: Of course. Junna: The Phantom, without showing his appearance, helped and guided Christine as the 'Angel of Music'. Junna: So, right now, I want to be Nana's 'Angel of Music'! Nana: Then, Junna is the Phantom and I'm Christine? The cast has been reversed♪ Junna: If it's to complete your script, whether it's my role or the cast, I'll show you that I can reverse them! Nana: Junna-chan, so reliable~! Nana: Then, will you take a look at it for me? The last scene I wrote for "The Phantom of the Opera". Junna: The last scene? ...What do you mean? Nana: The truth is, I've already written the finale. Nana: But, I didn't have the resolve to show it to everyone... Junna: Does that mean--... No, first, let me read it. Nana: Okay, please do!

Junna: ............ Junna: This is... really good! Junna: Portrayed like this, even if the Phantom and Christine are together, it doesn't feel out of place. Nana: Eh? Junna-chan, are you crying? Junna: Being shown a finale like this, who wouldn't? The whole time, you were able to express the Phantom's loneliness and love of the stage really well. Nana: Thank you. I cried when I was writing it, too, you know. Nana: ...But, hmmm. Nana: I think I emphasize too much with the Phantom. Nana: His feelings... I understand them well. Always being alone, and yearning for the stage because of it. Nana: Coming to resent the isolation that gets him called a phantom, he wants to be tied together to Christine in any way. Nana: For him to obtain what he seeks the most... I thought I would depict a finale like that, one that no one would have any complaints about. Junna: And you did it! Nana: Yeah. But, you know? Nana: I'm wondering if I've made the script I was writing for Sensei too much of my own. Junna: You're in a difficult spot. A happy ending would certainly be a big change. Nana: Right? But, because this is the ideal finale for me, the others ended up slipping my mind... Junna: Hey, Nana. Do you remember what Tendo-san and Saijo-san were saying today? Nana: Yeah. About the history of opera. Thanks to that I was able to make the characters lines more real. Junna: That's good, too, but what I'm talking about is--

Claudine: Well said, Tendo Maya! Yes, both the changing and the unchanging coexist. Claudine: In order to protect what's important to us or what we don't want to give up, there are parts of ourselves that we have to twist, right?

Nana: Yeah, I remember. But... what about it? Junna: That is to say, you don't need to throw away your ideal finale. Junna: The finale you thought up, and the traditional finale, they can both coexist, you don't need to torment yourself over having made the script into your own. Nana: C-Coexist? So, depicting a happy finale and a sad finale simultaneously...? Junna: I think it'd be difficult, but I'm certain if the two of us put our heads together we can come up with an answer. Junna: Yes, let's derive an entirely new answer, Nana. Junna: 'To let things continue as they are, or to not. To me now, that is the most difficult of questions.' Nana: A line from "Hamlet"...? Nana: Not 'to be, or not to be, that is the question'? Junna: There is that meaning as well, but what I said is more sincere to the text. Junna: In the end, Prince Hamlet could neither continue with nor go against the state of affairs. Junna: But, we'll obtain both sides of 'The Phantom of the Opera'. Junna: We'll definitely find the answer! Nana: Y-Yeah...!

Chapter 6: Their Happiness

Karen: Ah, looks like it's starting soon...! Mahiru: I'm getting nervous... I hope it goes well. Claudine: Even when it's not ourselves on stage, it's still nerve-wracking. Maya: We are the audience now. We can do nothing but watch. Junna: ............ Junna: ...Nana. Nana: ...Yeah. It's starting.

Phantom: "Christine. I've swept you away. Away to the opera's cellar that everyone fears and where none approach..." Phantom: "In this darkness, the time for you to understand will eventually come. The reason for my love for you, as well as for my isolation...!" Christine: "The one who has driven you this far is me? No. The cause of that is not me, but your isolation..." Christine: "The isolation that poisons your sad soul is what has hideously distorted your face!"

Junna: (In "The Phantom of the Opera" until now, this is where Christine, pitying the Phantom, kisses him.) Nana: (The Phantom, having been kissed, is touched by love for the first time in his life, and learns to love another...) Junna: (And then, awakened to love, he sets Christine and her lover free. But--) Nana: (In this script, Christine and the Phantom do not kiss...)

Christine: I won't accept this ring. I can't be together with you, after all. Phantom: Aah, my darling Christine! Why won't you be mine! Phantom: I want to come to know that singing voice as it vows your life to me. Why is your love not my love...! Christine: No, my love is your love...! I certainly loved you... But even so, I cannot vow eternity! Christine: This body, and even the soul that dwells within my chest... They already belong to Raoul. Having betrayed that, would you really be able to love me, who you have chosen? Phantom: Of course I would! My love shines eternal like the diamond in that ring, and like the light it reflects, it carries many forms, still! Christine: I don't want to love you! Don't make me use this singing voice that you love to commit adultery! Phantom: ......! Phantom: Christine, I see. If your love remains unchanged, if your feelings are eternal like the diamond in this ring... Phantom: You will surely become the most beautiful and sublime being in this world. I was so desperate to obtain you that I forgot the most important thing... Phantom: In order to obtain the angel that you are, I broke your beautiful wings...! *clang* Christine: The mask--... Phantom: Thank you, Christine. For returning the ring. It will shine eternally. As the personification of you that resides within me. Christine: Phantom, you-- Phantom: Soon, your fiance will arrive. He'll come for you, his true love. Phantom: You can take that warmth, Christine! Christine: Wait, where are you going? Without that mask, where is there for you to go!? Phantom: Farewell. Please, promise me you will continue to shine forever, like this ring...! Christine: Aah...! No--...! Christine: If the eternal shine that you carry disappears... I--....! Christine: This mask that forever hid the beautiful you, I'll keep this ugly mask, and I'll always... always remember you! Christine: With this voice you loved, I'll continue to sing... Forever... and ever...!

Karen: Uuuu... Good! Really good! I hope the Phantom and Christine are both happy... Mahiru: Banana-chan, that was a really great script...! Karen: Yeah! Banana, it was amazing! Amazing, amazing! Claudine: Those kids have good expressions, too. Maya: It was a wonderful "The Phantom of the Opera". Junna: The Phantom's feelings were conveyed perfectly. Nana: Everyone... Thank you so much for your help! Theater really is great, after all♪

Junna: The changing and the unchanging coexisting... It's a simple saying, but putting it into a script was tough. Nana: But we managed to make it happen because of you♪ Thanks! Junna: It's nothing. I'm satisfied just being able to help you. Junna: ...Actually, that's a lie. I won't be satisfied unless I perform it myself. Nana: Then, should I repay the favor by creating something that will give everyone a chance to perform? Junna: I'd be happy if that happens. Nana: It'll definitely happen Nana: --No, I'll make it happen. Karen: Heeey! Bananaaa! Junjun! If you walk that slowly, we won't make it back before curfew~! Junna: Yeah, we know! Junna: Let's go, Nana. Nana: Yeah♪

[moviegroovies]

oh god after last time i really did think i was done but i must have unlocked some new level of hell because here we go, here we go, lost boys hcs PART 3!!!!

so ummmmm michael... is sort of dumb. 

like, ok, specifically??? i think he’s got a higher than average emotional intelligence, but he’s just one of those kids who’s bad at school. there’s some hints of this in the movie: when michael is telling sam that he can’t tell lucy about the vampirism thing, sam’s line is that it’s “not like getting a D in school, mike!”, implying that hiding that kind of thing is something the two of them have been over before, and a deleted subplot has him repeatedly insisting to lucy that he’s going to drop out of school to get a job and help her pay for things.

tbh i think he’s got that classic “child of divorce” thing going on. he feels like a burden on sparse resources and can’t stand the thought of wasting his days in school, where he doesn’t even want to be. he wants to help his mom! he gets a job for he so he can do that! what a good, sweet boy!!!

hmmm. dyslexic michael, anyone? like, i was going to say that he was particularly vexed by math & science, but the more i think about it, the more i’m leaning toward him maybe just being disinterested in those subjects, even though they’re the ones he’s better at, while english and history (but particularly english) really piss him off because studying takes so goddamn long.

so he gets like, C+/B- in math and science, consistent C- in history, and wavers C- to D+ or even lower in english. 

he’s so polite to his teachers that they help him when they can though, especially because they know he’s trying so hard, but he’s just not entirely gifted at this sort of stuff. 

the worst is when he has to keep his grades up to stay eligible for sports--that pressure just makes everything seem so much worse.

i think michael plays some of everything. he’s like, some kind of guard on the football team, not particularly their star player or anything, but i think he’s also got a starter position on the basketball team, and he is the star pitcher on the baseball team. 

physical stuff just comes easier to him than academic stuff, you know?

his high school girlfriend was a cheerleader, but they weren’t that serious. she was a kind of preppy girl, a little vapid, and it felt to michael like they only really dated because they were supposed to. breaking up with her kind of led to michael’s attraction to star; he saw her on the boardwalk and she looked like she dressed for herself and she was outwardly enjoying her time at the concert--plus, you know, she’s really pretty.

he hates to admit it, but michael’s favorite classes in school were the home ec classes that his guidance counselor suggested he take. he took shop first, which was okay, but really, what he liked to do the most was the cooking and sewing shit. when he joins the lost boys, he kind of “takes over” these roles from star (who had been pressured into acting the mother for all these assholes who could be her great grandfathers, easily), and it turns out that he’s a lot better at that stuff than she is. 

guess he was always kind of training to be david’s bitch after all.

the guys stop ribbing on him once he shows them how he can fix their clothes and shit, though. goddamn assholes.

michael’s main circle of friends in highschool was made up of other jocks, and like with his girlfriend, they weren’t super close. he often got excluded from stuff because he would insist he couldn’t do something or other on account of his mom needing him home that night, or he would get pissed at them for making fun of sam. 

michael said family comes first, fuckers!

he did drink and smoke and shit like that back in phoenix when he knew he wouldn’t be missed at home, though. he’s not a goody two shoes, really, he just didn’t want to make things harder than they were for his mom. 

one day he did come home drunk, and he’ll never forget how upset lucy looked. he still doesn’t feel like he’s made that up to her. ouch.

one of the guys michael hung out with, probably the closest michael had to a “best friend” was a dude named declan who he’d known since elementary school. declan as the only one of the jock guys who didn’t really hold it against him when he’d skip out on stuff, and the only one he ever even thought about telling the divorce shit to, although in the end, he chickened out of actually doing it. 

like i said, they weren’t best friends or anything, but they could have been, y’know?

one of the less nice dudes in his group (probs one michael got in fights with often) started dating michael’s girlfriend about a week after he moved. michael wasn’t really pissed by the time he found out about that; he had way bigger problems to worry about by then.

there was a guy that michael saw around who was kind of a beatnik loner outcast and almost definitely a fag. he liked shakespeare and oscar wilde and probably drew pretty things in the margins of his notebook, and the guys that michael hung out with trashed on him pretty much constantly. michael himself, however, had kind of a thing for the guy: he thought he was cool and would ask when he could to see what he was working on.

you know how michael acted around star at the very beginning of their association? that’s pretty much how he was around this dude. local bi disaster is bi.

the guy (i was going to say fuck it and name him after the guy who i’m sort of basing him on from peggy sue got married, but guess what my fucking luck is, that dude’s name is michael. jfc. let’s call him charlie) thought michael was just there to make fun of him like the others did, but he eventually, he might have come around to trusting that mike really was just interested in his art. 

maybe they made out or something before charlie eventually pushed back against him because he didn’t want to get fucking murdered by michael’s friends for making him queer if they got caught 

michael always felt like he should have pushed harder to have some sort of relationship with charlie, but once he moves to santa carla, there’s no use in thinking about it anymore.

unlike michael, sam did have a close circle of friends at school, even though he wasn’t as classically “popular” as his brother. 

it was probs this reason that made him take the move a lot harder than his brother did.

sam, also unlike michael, was/is really good at school. he’s super skilled at memorizing dates & facts (just look at him rattle off semi-obscure superman trivia lol), and pretty talented at writing to boot. he doesn’t like math as much, but if he works at it, it comes to him pretty quickly. 

gifted kid perks™

being that everything came easy to sam, and that he didn’t do any sports like michael did, he had a lot of downtime to read books and comics, keep up w/ pop culture, and hang out with his nerdy friends who liked to do the same. he was even in a d&d group

his character was an elf rogue.

it’s about gay rights

re: sports, it’s not that sam couldn’t be athletic, just that he didn’t ever really want to be. he used to do little league to be like michael and as a concession to his father, but really, he was always put in the outfield, and at the end of the day he would just rather read or watch tv than stand out in the hot sun playing this game he didn’t care about.

when they were little, michael trained himself to get better at reading so that he could read stuff to sam when their parents were fighting or their mom was away. he remembered how his parents (in better times) had read to him, and he knew it made sam feel better, so he put aside his difficulties and discomfort to read to his brother before bed.

the easiest things to read for him were comic books (he had some batmans and supermans and even a few wonder womans, although it wasn’t all superhero stuff. he also had richie rich and, of course, archies), which kind of sparked sam’s love for them--they were something he shared with his brother. <3

i’m thinking sam’s nerd club was the prototypical “mostly boys who never talked to a girl in their lives” type thing, but at the same time i’d like to imagine that at least one of them had a pretty brash (and nerdy) sister who pushed her way into the club, winning their respect by doing what sam did to frog brothers, only with star wars lore.

also, i’m kind of picturing a shy girl from their school who sam takes under his wing when she’s getting bullied, only to find out that she’s really into that stuff too.

she’s part of their d&d campaign; she plays a badass orc barbarian woman and consistently has the best luck with the dice. 

the girl is almost definitely a lesbian, but sam asks her to homecoming and stuff like that so that they’ll both have dates; they’re basically each other’s beards. 

Gay Rights.

one of the only ways michael could ever really relate to his dad was when they played baseball and the dad taught him Sports™ things, so sam not being at all interested in that stuff made him kind of a disappointment. even still (or maybe for that reason), michael was always the mama’s boy, while sam spent a long time desperate for his dad’s approval.

maybe bc michael and lucy tried really hard to protect him from just how shitty their dad really was, to be honest.

speaking of michael and sam’s dad, i’ve been doing a lot of thinking about him, and now i’ve got Opinions. 

contrary to what i guess is the general fandom consensus (at least from what i’ve seen? but my scope might not be that big regarding this character, so if i’m wrong, i’m wrong lol) regarding the dad, i can’t see him being particularly abusive physically. 

however, given how sweet and agreeable lucy is, i get a sense that there must have been something REALLY insurmountable in their relationship to make her decide that divorce was the only option. the way i see it, michael and sam’s father started as one of those anti-establishment punks who eventually grew up and just... snapped back the other way entirely to end up as the establishment himself. 

main justification for this is that scene w/ michael and star; he doesn’t just refer to his mother being an ex-hippie, he refers to his folks. plus, i mean, there must have been something about the man that endeared him to lucy, right?

so, over the course of their marriage, the guy goes from being a radical dreamer type with maybe some kind punk rock aspirations to being like.... reagan’s “moral majority.” 

he starts totally stomping down his old dreams and, in the process, mocking lucy for holding onto anything from their past (you know how she told sam part of the reason she divorced him was that “he never believed in the closet monster”? that was a symptom tbh). i imagine that this, in itself, was soul crushing, but what was really the last straw was when he started in on michael and sam: getting mad and telling michael that he wasn’t going to make it in the MLB and that he had to get his shitty grades up if he wanted to amount to anything (only making him hate school even more lbr), and openly disliking sam’s rejection of sports and stuff in favor of his comic books and MTV.

before the end, i think michael got in a lot of fights with his dad when he’d make passive-aggressive comments at sam for not being enough of a man. 

who made you the fucking authority on that, huh?

if he was ever actually physically violent with anyone, it was probably michael during these fights, or mayyyybe even lucy when she’d step in.

eventually, something just tips lucy’s goddamn scales, and she snaps and goes out right then and there to file for divorce. they never saw the point in signing a prenup or anything back then, y’know, so without really fighting for it, lucy wasn’t going to get anything in the divorce. 

she doesn’t. they leave arizona with just about the clothes on their backs.

if anyone actually fought against the divorce proceedings, honestly i think it was the dad. he had this idea of his respectable nuclear family, and, even though he was basically an emotionally neglectful POS to his sons, he hated the idea of his wallstreet suit-type coworkers coming to know that his home life was anything less than perfect. 

as a last ditch effort, he probably tried to win lucy back at the very last minute, even twisting her arm in an attempt to get her to stay for the boys’ sake, but he clearly no longer knows what attracted her to him in the first place, and the “effort” just makes her sad.

in her mind, she’s already gone by then, you know?

finally, he just ives up and signs the divorce papers. for a hot second it really fucks him up; he goes in to work unshaven and haggard, he’s back to eating like a bachelor, his heart isn’t in what he’s doing. this isn’t about grief over losing his family, though, is the shitty thing. not really. instead, he’s just dealing with uncertainty over how to remake his image. 

unfortunately, that’s about as much karma as their dad gets. by the time lucy, sam, and michael are gone for good, he finds it’s easiest to just pretend that they never happened. lucy didn’t demand it, but he sends the occasional bare bones childcare check in the mail and feels like he’s the goddamn father of the year or something, and meanwhile, he remarries a woman that’s both younger and more conservative than lucy, sooner or later fathering a son with her.

lucy isn’t cruel; she doesn’t want the boys to be totally cut off from their father, and even though they both pretty clearly sided with her in the divorce she offers him visitation rights and partial custody (saying that they could stay with him at least every summer and for whatever other holidays he wanted), but he mostly rejects this. 

when the boys try to call him to ask, he gives them a noncommittal answer about them maybe visiting next summer, after they’ve all gotten settled in. 

they pretty much stop calling after that. 

remember how i said michael has an above-average emotional intelligence? he’s definitely the one who helps lucy through the divorce the most. he picks up on the signals she sends about when she needs help and when she needs space, and chides sam for pushing her too hard every now and then.

sam, on the other hand, is definitely a good kid who cares about his mom a lot, but he’s a little more selfish and has a harder time acting like he’s got no problem leaving phoenix for her. the only real fights the two of them get into before all the vampire mess are centered around sam not being sympathetic enough to lucy and michael getting onto him for it.

i think that their dad might end up being a much better father and husband for his new family, and when the eventually visit him long enough to realize this, michael and sam... aren’t sure what to think.

like, they’re glad he’s not repeating the same mistakes he made before, but it’s not fair, is it? to see your little half-brother get the father you always wanted but never got. 

their new stepmom is a sweet lady, though. she really does want to try and welcome sam and michael into the family. sam, michael, and their dad all try, but in the end they find it uncomfortable, and the boys know it’s just a facade on all sides to make her happy. 

everyone is a little bit relieved when the boys just give up and go back to santa carla. 

when michael meets the lost boys (& subsequently learns about dwayne’s past with jasper and, you know, the total boner david has for him, and oh yeah, the fact that these guys are kind of universally gay asf), his only experience with gay shit had been his closeted fumbling with charlie and like, negative stereotypes from media, so he’s kind of amazed by these totally queer dudes who just... take no shit. 

like, he gets challenged to a motorcycle race and their leader doesn’t back down at all from the fight michael tries to incite, they take him back to drink and hang out in a semi-nasty man cave. these dudes aren’t what he expects from fags at all (they’re not sissies, and that’s kind of the end of his knowledge about the gay community at that time lol), and he just doesn’t... know what to think about them.

he kind of wants to be them.

like, you know how immediately after seeing them for the first time, michael buys himself a leather jacket and goes to get his ear pierced? there’s a reason for that, babes!

in other news, michael is a cancer and there’s nothing y’all can do about it.

i mean, i have Evidence behind my theory but also i’m just right.

but like, going back to that scene with michael and star again, when he’s introducing himself, you know how he tells her that he was nearly named moonbeam or moonchild or something like that? well, another name for cancers that i’ve seen is moonchildren, after the way cancer is ruled by the moon (and bc the term “cancer” itself has some... other connotations).

in conclusion, lucy really was That Bitch sgdfhghdh

[soprana-snap]

Magnolia Seven-Seven

Chapter Three: Too Much of a Bad Thing

Summary: Magnolia is like every other city, full of traffic jams and hoards of people. When Captain Gajeel and Detectives Gray and Natsu get involved with a shady crime boss that seems to have the whole crime ring in his back pocket, they need a little more backup to bring him down: i.e ADA Lucy Heartfilia, Evidence Technician Levy McGarden, and Caffeinator Juvia Lockster.

Rating: M for adult situations and language

A/N: Hey guys. It’s been a while, huh? I’ve been busy planning my wedding and taking care of some elderly family members. I didn’t have much time to write...or the will to. 

Recently, my brother had an accident and he didn’t make it. I’ve been kinda lost for a bit, hence me going through some old drafts and trying to pick up writing again. Here’s to trying.

Be warned, there is some heavy adult themes in this chapter: Drug use, sexual implications, classic CSI. We can’t have all sunshine and rainbows in this M-77 ride!

Previous Chapters: One Two

“Have you ever, you know, tried to be anything more than an over-sized child?”

Gray leaned back slightly in the booth, swallowing down his pizza with a few chugs of soda. Cheese strings hung from his lips, swinging like willow branches in the wind.

“Uh, no?” he said, slurping them up and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He didn’t mind the stains, making a mental note to dump half a bottle of stain remover into the laundry. “Since when did this make you feel childish?”

The man sighed, glancing over to the giant mouse currently dancing with a toothy five year old wearing a party hat. Or, more like some guy in a mouse costume, the mascot of the place.

“Chuckie Cheese. Really Gray? How much longer are we going to pretend like we are the same old kids?”

Gray scowled, laying the pizza on the pastel plate and leaned in close, brow twitching. “Oh? Is that so? Then why are you holding on to all those tickets, Lyon? Give’em to me.”

Lyon paled, scrambling to grab the pile of pink tickets from Gray’s seeking hands, nearly leaping from the booth. “Wait-let’s not get hasty! I earned these.”

“Come on, give the over-sized child what he wants.” Gray teased lightly, making a show of reaching further and laughing when Lyon slapped his hands away.

“Only you are the over-sized child here. Ultear would back me up on this!” Lyon laughed, rolling the tickets around his wrist. He could never be too careful with Gray. He was nosy as hell and loved to ‘borrow’ stuff. If he got his grubby hands on these tickets, Lyon could kiss his Captain Planet power ring set goodbye. “Too bad she didn’t come, huh?”

Gray rolled his eyes, grabbing another slice of pizza instead and digging in. “Yeah, something about a meeting in the capital. Jeez, she could have just said she didn’t want to come.”

“Yeah, well being a senator makes her too busy for her brothers nowadays. You know she would have kicked your ass in skee ball.” Lyon said, taking another slice for himself.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Gray sighed. “She’s always had a stick up her ass. I don’t know how her and Ur were related.”

Lyon blinked at the name, glancing up to stare at Gray for a second before returning his attention to the pepperonis. “But she’s always treated us like her brothers, even after Ur passed.”

Gray frowned, his mood turning somber. “On second thought, I can see the relation.”

Lyon licked his lips, glancing down to the chipped wooden table with the faded logo before speaking again. “Speaking of Ultear, I have some good news to share, although she will hear about it from my texts...I’ve almost got enough money to do it! Meredy and I counted our assets just the other day.”

Gray glanced up, broken from the somber mood in a heartbeat, his grin wide. “Finally going to be a big boy and get a real job?”

Lyon pouted, flicking pizza crust at Gray, unsurprised when the man caught it and ate it in less than five seconds. After all, it was Gray that said even adopted siblings shared the cooties. Plus, with the animals that were his roommates, Lyon was sure Gray got over whatever little germophobia he had. He had once watched Natsu ingest a hole can of expired green beans, crowing about going to Valhalla as he did so. His younger adopted brother learned by examples, after all.

“Lay off. Uber eats is a fine job! I make enough to get by and save. Meredy also makes good tips at Moe’s.” Times had been rough before, but the future was bright in Lyon’s eyes. They finally got it turned around without the constant offer of help from Ultear and Gray. Old debts were getting paid. He could make it by on his own.

“You don’t even have a car. You deliver by bike.” Gray deadpanned.

“For now! I almost have enough to buy that old building off on Waters Street. Then, the era of Vastia’s Realty will dawn! Vastia will sell your house fast-ia!” The moment it slogan rolled off his tongue, Gray’s cheeks inflated, his poor attempt to stifle his laughter failing. Lyon sighed.

“D-Did’ja...pfft, think of that by yourself?” Gray wheezed, slow clapping. “It really...shows your passion.” He broke into a fit of laughter.

“It’s still in the works.” Lyon dismissed coolly, mildly put off by his brother’s lack of enthusiasm.

“Oi, I think you’ll be great...just, leave the marketing to Meredy. That slogan was pretty rough.” Gray rolled his shoulders, adopting a contemplating expression before speaking, “Come to Vastia Realty and meet the most interesting realtor in the world! How about that?”

To be honest, Lyon did kind of like it. But, Gray actually being helpful was fishy in itself. “And how would I back that up?”

Gray’s smile turned wolfish. Ah, here it comes. “We can hang baby pictures of you up in the lobby and tell stories like how you wet the bed until you were-”

“Okay, let’s not.” Lyon interrupted a little louder than he wanted. Some mother shot them a withering glare before turning her attention back to her tot trying to count tickets. “I like the ‘most interesting realtor’ pitch, but let’s leave out the rest.”

Gray shrugged, helping himself to the pitcher of soda. “Suit yourself. I thought it had flare.” He waggled his free hand in a poor rendition of ‘the ol’ razzle dazzle’.

Lyon flashed a pointed tongue at him. “You would. You’ve always had bad taste...and a stripping habit!” he added as Gray fidgeted with his shirt, lifting it up past his pectorals. Lyon swore he could hear the indignant whispers of mothers all around. “Stripping is bad enough. Stripping in front of kids is worse.”

To his credit, Gray paled and shoved his shirt back down. “Still haven't kicked that habit. Remember when we tried out for the swim team and asked Ur to train us?”

Lyon blinked, a wistful smile crossing his face. How could he ever forget anything that had to do with Ur? “I do. I remember her telling us about when she was an olympic swimmer and how she would train. And like fools, we asked her to push us and push us hard.”

Gray let his face fall into his palms. “Oh, that was the worst decision we ever made. Remember when we had to ‘think speed’? Strip down to our shorts as fast as we could, then sprint at and dive into the water? She made us run that drill until I strip out of habit!”

His brother laughed softly, eyes gleaming with fond memories as well. Something about Gray eating it one day with his pants half off. That was hilarious. “Yeah, but it got us on the swim team. Ur was so proud.”

“The little league swim team. I don’t know why she had our team pictures on the fridge.” Gray chuckled, pushing his empty plate away, shifting on the uncomfortable booth seat.

“She was proud because we set out and did it. For the first time, her two lost boys found a way with pure grit.” Lyon said, staring into his glass of ice water. “We weren’t lost anymore.”

The silence that stretched after that lingered long after the pizza had grown cold. Lyon could see the grease of the cheese start to coagulate, the pepperoni curling up as it dried.

“So-” Lyon finally said, his voice a croak “-what is Gray Fullbuster up to these days? I yakked about my plans. What are yours?”

Gray blinked, at odds with the fact that for once with Lyon, he didn’t have the heart to brag about his life. Not after remembering all that was in their childhood. Ur wouldn’t want them putting each other down.

“Well...the guys and I have this new case. Natsu is raring to go as usual, but he put both of us into a produce cart when we were in a chase. I told you about Lucy, right?”

Lyon nodded with a small smile. “Still not giving him the time of day?”

Gray grinned. “You got it, but I see her easing up. I think that asshole enjoys giving chase to her.”

Both men sighed, Lyon rolling his eyes. “That guy is something else.”

“Yeah, well, he’s takin’ to quoting Shakespeare at her...incorrectly. So that’s a thing. Gajeel, well, still has a steel rod up his ass but he keeps us in line.” Gray sighed, looking at his watch, mildly uncomfortable sharing anymore details. “At this rate we are gonna be here for dinner.”

Lyon started, glancing at his own phone in surprise. “Whoa, I’m late. I got an extra gig and I still have to run home and change.”

“Run, Lyon, run.” Gray teased.

“Shaddup Gray.” Lyon snapped as he stood, flopping a measly two dollars onto the table.He paused, looking grim as he dug deeper into his ratty wallet, pursing his lips as his search continued to be fruitless.

“Oi, I got it.” Gray said finally, “Get going. Next time, I treat you to this really great coffee shop.”

Flashing a grateful smile, Lyon slid his wallet into his pockets quickly, bumping fists with his brother before whipping around and hustling away. Watching him go, Gray rolled his eyes, fishing out his own wallet, not in the least peeved.

After all, he had plenty of time to pester Lyon to pay him back.

.

.

.

Some people didn’t just have days off. No rest for the wicked. That sort of thing. As Gajeel leaned closer to the stack of paperwork he had on his desk, it didn’t make the sort of difference he wanted. The stack was still tall, and half of it wasn’t his own.

Damn that Detective Fullbuster for putting in a day off right under his nose when he fell behind on paperwork. He had better things to do that pick up the slack!

At least Natsu did his paperwork on time...with doodles for ‘extra credit’ as he called them. Some of them were little stick people getting eaten by dragons, others were of miscellaneous things like cheeseburgers or the scribbles of ‘Mr. Natsu Heartfilia’.

God, he was pathetic.

Gajeel let his forehead smack the desktop, once, twice, a third time for extra assurance before he took up his pen again, signing away. Register evidence to the locker? Check. Release personal items to families? Check. Release news to press? Fuck that, the vultures can find it on their own!

The stack loomed over him, reminding him of the drill sergeant he had in the academy. It’s been years before anyone actually tore him down to the bare frame, his mind honed in a carefully forged body of muscle. Sure, he was a little rebellious back then and needed a lot of work, but he had people to put him back on the right path.

So did Fullbuster and Dragneel.

Gajeel sneered at the memories of the three of them, three boys desperate to be changed men. They didn’t realize it at the time, but they all were after the same thing: belonging. As much as it ground his gears in the beginning, they were a pretty good set besides the tiffs every now and then.

They were still fucking morons...but they could be morons together. Absently, he touched his left eye, where Dragneel had given him a black eye once, then is right cheek, where Gray had once slugged him. If anything, Gajeel imagined them to be like brothers, not that he had any desire for some. They kinda just...fell into his lap one day, literally. They had a fight in the mess hall and fell into his lap, knocking his grilled cheese into orbit.

Assholes.

But that’s how they became friends, and he used the term loosely. They paired up for sparring, got stuck in the same bunk area, had the same obstacle courses, and eventually volunteered each other for pepper spray and taser tests. He could still remember Natsu’s cackle when he got to taze Gray, and Gray’s chortles when he got to pepper spray Natsu. He, however, got to taze and spray them both.

Somehow, the fuckers ended up studying with him, comparing notes and giving backhanded advice to each other. They became some funky trio, like the Three Stooges. The two stuck like glue to him. Gajeel could see why.

Natsu, with his fucked up past and his desperate push after his adopted dad’s death, felt alone and clung to the one thing that kept his feet grounded on the right path: the police academy. He was volatile, shouting at instructors and usually running extra laps, but it was all a face to hide the pain. Gajeel had heard of the gang Tartaros before, back when he was young and in the gang life too. He knew of the Black Wizard, the leader, and of his little monster brother, END. It wasn’t until later in the academy that Gray and he learned the truth. That Natsu was one and the same: END. Gray’s snooping habit bit them in the ass, intercepting a letter from a penitentiary. What a mistake. They let Natsu wallop them that time.

But it cleared the air and Natsu slowly came down to the land of actual people.

Gray, well, had an equally screwed up past. The death of his parents by the drug lord, Deloria hit him hard. The foster system dropped him like a hot potato after he started getting picked up in juvie. It was pure luck that a foster mother suitable for assholes like Gray picked him up, adopting him not long after. Gray had a more stable life than he or Natsu, but it shattered just as fast when his mom died, leaving the older sister to care for them. From what he knew, Gray’s brother started getting into trouble where as Gray pulled himself up by his bootstraps.

As for himself, well, he was naturally a troublemaker. Which of course drew those dweebs to him like flies to food.

Then they graduated, moved into a rented house together, and lived happily fucking after. That was nearly five years ago. Which is how long it’ll take him to finish this paperwork!

With a snarl, Gajeel shoved a stack aside, just barely stopping himself from pushing just a little more so it all toppled into the garbage. Gray would be in so much shit, but then his leadership would look bad too. With all the faith this department put into his sorry ass, that was unacceptable.

He signed away paper after paper, not bothering to check the clock. The stack began to shrivel, still a formidable size for Gray to deal with tomorrow.

Was he allergic to paperwork or something? Why was it so hard? All he had to to was not read and just sign. Then, he got to get yelled at for not reading. It wasn’t rocket science.

He supposed that he got stuck with them as punishment, for what, he didn’t know. It was shitty, shitty karma.

He glanced up for a moment, freezing as he stared out of the glass of his office and into the halls. Or rather, in the conference room beyond the hall.

It was a quiet room, one designated for detective use only. Cork boards and whiteboards decorated the walls, all meant for cases. There were a few desks too, but the main table was an oval, situated where one would see the biggest whiteboard.

Inside, fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching away in frustration, stood Natsu. He faced down the largest cork board, photos and sticky notes plastered all over. Even from a distance, Gajeel could see the red yarn that Natsu favored, tied around thumb tacks and drawing lines. It was old fashioned but effective; Natsu being a hands on-learner requiring more of the old fashioned.

By the looks of it, he wasn’t making headway on whatever case he was looking at. Be it the increased car thefts or the increased amounts of misdemeanor crimes. It was looking like he had no headway in either.

Though, the same could be said for Gray as well. No leads on the increased drug trade or the sudden flux of counterfeit money in the city now. But he didn’t see Gray on the edge of a mental breakdown.

Or...kicking a chair over.

The clatter was lost over the distance and walls between, but Gajeel saw Natsu cringe at the sound, calming immediately. That guy...mind like a steel trap but still with a temper.

He watched Natsu move, gently setting the chair upright once more before returning to the board looking more pensive.

Gajeel didn’t get to squint and take a peek at what Natsu was dealing with, because a figure crossed his sights, passing between the rooms through the hall. Orange sweater with a yellow headband, blue hair. His heart sputtered, his mind cleared of any questions about Natsu’s cases. Levy slowed, turning her head to look at him, eyes locking on.

Time slowed for a moment before she sent that smile. Fuck, now he was blushing and squirming in his seat. He had time, right? Paperwork could wait. Those manly butterflies were back, strumming electric guitars and singing ‘shooby doo’.

They dropped like lead, however, when Levy blinked, glanced to his door, and flushed the brightest shade of red. He heard the knock echo in his head as Levy looked to the floor and scurried away, taking his music with her.

There went that.

“Come in.” he grumbled, pretending to be working and schooling his face back into a scowl. Who dared come through his door?

“Redfox.” Oh fuck.

“Scarlet.” he greeted, praying his brow didn’t have sweat. She was oblivious to most things but the scent of fear. She was viciously scary without trying, the air around her heavy with threat.

She smiled and he relaxed. No, she didn’t know.

“Enjoying your day?” she mused, eyeing his completed stack with approval in her face. “You’ve certainly been busy.”

He would have been busy with something else if she hadn’t darkened his doorway. Someone else.

“Eh, yer definition of enjoying varies from mine.”

The smile stayed. So she was amused? Wha-

“So you forgot about your court appearance, I suppose?”

His stomach bottomed out, eyes tearing to the clock. He wasn’t- aw shit he was late. Standing up, his chair rolled back as he scrambled around the desk, accidentally getting his foot stuck in the wastebasket. A curse on his lips, he kicked it away, stumbling his way over to the door. Erza stepped aside with that stupid smirk. If only he could wipe it away.

Ah.

“Finish up my paperwork for me, thanks Scarlet.” he said, flashing a sneer of his own. If anything made her frown, it was paperwork.

The smirk widened, like a hyena with a plot. “Me? Why Detective Dragneel happens to be right across the hall. I’m sure he has the time. I’ll do you a favor and pass it along.” With a toss of her hair, she nodded to the door. “Well? Get moving!”

A shiver crawled down Gajeel’s spine. Well, he tried! Without even glancing at Natsu and sending a mental apology, Gajeel hustled away, knowing he’ll be forgiven by Natsu after a punch or two...but never by Lucy if he left her hanging, not until he bought her a new law book.

.

.

.

“Ms. Heartfilia, could you please get off your plane of existence and explain your point frankly?”

Gods, she was so tired, her eyes burned like she opened them in the ocean. It wasn’t her fault that they couldn’t follow the leads she was laying down. She spent days getting this evidence, days arguing it in court, and at this point it will be longer. She literally just proved this guy guilty while speaking plainly. 

Oh well, she forgot that some people never went to law school. She looked at the jury, embarrassment flooding her at the blank looks that greeted her. Oh, maybe she did overdo it.

Judge Fernandes seemed to have followed her but he was just as on par with her trail as she was.

“Of course, your Honor.” she allowed, closing her eyes and taking a breath in. Okay, simplify.

“The evidence against Mr. Prominence is overwhelming. He has DNA evidence linking him to no less than ten missing women this year alone. Of the most recent: Millianna Gato, Susan Farlow, and Michelle Starbrooke. All three of high school age and interested in a summer internship. An internship sponsored by Mr. Prominence, himself.”

Lucy breathed in, and instantly regretted it.

“Objection!” Bora’s defense growled, spittle flinging from his lips.

“On what grounds?” Judge Fernandes asked.

“I object on the grounds that Ms. Heartfilia is trying to sway the jury through plain statements that hold no full proof that my client is in fact guilty of these girl’s disappearances.” He was still slinging spit, like a leaking faucet.

Lucy scowled. Of course she was trying to sway the jury. It was her job. What kind of crackpot lawyer did this guy hire?

Judge Fernandes seemed to have the same idea. “Overruled. There have been no full statements from Ms. Heartfilia that directly accuse Mr. Prominence. Ms. Heartfilia, proceed.”

“Thank you, your Honor.” Lucy said graciously. “As I was saying, this internship, if you recall, took young and ambitious girls that dreamed of becoming models and promised a study abroad trip that the internship funded should the girl not be able to provide.”

She stepped closer to the jury, moving her hand in sweeping gestures as she continued, “Prosecution has presented bank statements linking Mr. Prominence to the girl’s tickets purchases, evidence that the girls met with him before their disappearances, and evidence that these girls have been sold as slaves to Bosco with handwritten receipts.” Honestly, he wanted to get caught. He never wiped the hard drives before police seized them. He filed printed bank statements in a cabinet. He was the most self-incriminating criminal she had ever seen in court.

“If the jury desires, I can present even more evidence-” she began, freezing when the Judge coughed.

“Ms. Heartfilia, we are out of time. I will adjourn until a later date. I will take a parting statement.”

Crap. She took too long.

“Of course, your Honor. I only leave the reminder that should the jury wish, I will present more evidence to support a sentence.”

She thought she heard a groan from some of the jury. They should fear. She won’t take ‘not guilty’ for an answer. Those girls deserved as much.

“Indeed,” Judge Fernandes conceded, “something the jury will deliberate next session. This court will adjourn until next Wednesday at eight AM.” His gavel hit the desk and instantly Lucy relaxed her muscles.

“Officer Redfox, now that you have joined us, please escort Mr. Bora Prominence to the detention officers.”

Lucy tensed all over again, whirling around and watching Gajeel sheepishly move from the aisle to enter the floor, fishing out his cuffs. So he did show up! She hadn’t seen him at all during the defense nor when she took the floor. Meaning, he was late when he promised not to be. Judging by the way he avoided her pinpoint gaze, she figured he knew she noticed.

Sounds of the jury standing and shuffling to the back room echoed through the courtroom; the polished wood that accented every inch of the room made it reverberate like they stood inside a drum.

It was the music of dismissal, the melody of justice that she had become accustomed to since her internships. 

A sigh on her breath, Lucy wandered back to her table, trying to gather her chaos back into her briefcase. Today was yet another day of frustration potent enough for her to get messy with paperwork. This trial has been going on forever and truth be told, she was even tired of it. The jury was wilting, looking bored each and every day now. No matter how much evidence she dug up, the defense barely managed to counter.

This trial was a joke. What a waste of her precious time.

By the time she latched her case and slung it over her shoulder, Gajeel had returned, holding open the gate that separated observers from the court.

“You were late.” she said, stepping through and pausing for him to follow.

His gaze averted for a second before he met her eyes. “Yeh, I figured ya noticed.” He flashed her a grin, ruffling her hair and snorting when she squealed, “My hair!”

“Sorry bunny girl, I had to cover Fullbuster’s paperwork and Dragneel was busy with his cases. Time ran away, I guess.” It was true...enough he supposed.

Lucy smiled, walking alongside  him through the halls. “Well, that’s acceptable. Nobody got rowdy this time.” She brushed strands of hair from her face, eyes drifting to the old tile floor as her heels clacked on it. “And, I’m not surprised to hear that Gray skimped out of work...or how hard Natsu is working.” She laughed lightly then, “They are something else, huh?”

Gajeel rolled his eyes, grumbling, “Oh yeah, something else, alright. Both are moronic monkeys on my back.” Bringing up his hand, he scratched at his chin, scowling at a point along the farthest walls. “Gray’s hidin’ something. He’s always texting someone, not saying who it is. He’s starting to be absent from dinner and sometimes not coming home at night.”

Lucy blinked, staring up at Gajeel before a sly look crossed her face. “Oh~.” she hummed, a glint in her eyes. “Getting worried, are you? Gajeel, I never expected you to be a mother hen!”

She was teasing, but it grated his nerves enough to flash her a glower. “Careful what you say, bunny girl. I won’t stand for that kinda talk.”

Lucy stuck her tongue out at him. But instead of rising up, Gajeel grinned cheekily and went for a lower blow. “Oh yeah, Dragneel told me to tell ya, ‘What is a drunken man like? Me when I see you.’”

Her face warmed, but she laughed lightly, shaking her head. “He never gets the quotes right.” she sighed, reaching into her purse and pulling out a small composition notebook and her pen. Natsu never got the quotes right, but she would remember every single one.

“I don’t think he realizes I double majored in Law and English literature.” she sighed.

Gajeel shrugged, his lips bordering a sneer now. “If he ever figures out you write down every single one of his botched quotes-”

Lucy smacked his pierced cheeks with her pen, a playful scowl that did not hide her raging blush on her cheeks. “You are sworn to secrecy, crepe chef.”

Gajeel clamped his mouth shut, starting to pout. Ah, checkmate.

“I swear you, Erza and Levy can be wicked. All these women managing to keep me in check. I can’t even make fun of the idiots now.”

.

.

.

He was so full of pizza he felt like he had to roll home. Every time Gray invited him to lunch, he always pigged out. Meredy actually teased him about gaining a few.

Stepping over a pothole in the sidewalk, Lyon walked on with what could only be described as the swagger of a full and confident man. Of all the things he was proud of, deceiving his brother once again was one of them.

He hated it, sure, but lying seemed preferable to actually having Gray disappointed and insisting on helping he and Meredy out financially. He wasn’t a damn child, no matter how he and Gray teased each other.

The realtor business wasn’t even close. Their funds weren’t even in the ballpark. They lived off of ramen and spaghettios. He stole WiFi from his neighbors.Their water was shut off twice this month alone.

Ur would be ashamed and Lyon knew he couldn’t handle the shame in Gray’s eyes too. Ultear was never around much, so his secret stayed safe from her, at least.

Ur’s two perfect children and the one not-so-perfect one.

He and Meredy needed a call soon or they’d fall short on rent again. After just barely squaring it away from being four months in delinquency, the landlord promised to be far less understanding in the future.

He’d do anything to keep her off the streets, cold and hungry.

As if by a miracle, his phone buzzed in his pocket, the ringer long since malfunctioned to forever stay silent. Not like he could afford a better phone anyway.

“Yo.” he greeted coolly after flipping the phone open, effortlessly pulling off his classic ‘Badass™’ look.

The voice on the other side was like an angel, his one kryptonite.

“Hey Darlin’, I was just thinking about y-”

An angel that had some fantastic news, apparently, since she didn’t wait for him to flatter her properly.

“What? A job?” He tried not to sound too overeager. He failed when she gave him the payload.

“A-Are you serious!? Twenty grand just to do that?!”

She spoke again and he had to grasp the wall of the nearest building to prevent him from falling to the earth.

“Each?!”

He felt like Icarus, the boy that fashioned wings of feather and wax to take to the skies, to taste that freedom that had been eluding him for so long. As long as he stayed away from the sun and the tumultuous waves below, he could soar forever.

With Meredy sounding just as thrilled as he, it was hard not to smile. This was they big break. This was their moment.

“Count me in. Where do I need to be?”

.

.

.

Magnolia was a beautiful city, accented mostly by the canals and the gorgeous cathedral. While tourists stuck to the well lit, well patrolled parts, most locals knew where not to be at certain parts of the day. Like now, Main Street would be overflowing with traffic, so much so that cars would clog the intersections because the lights never changed fast or often enough.

It was the case now here in the development district. No local in their right mind would be on Abandoned Row, the street filled with the most abandoned warehouses. Most belonged to Heartfilia Railways, but after the latest stock hit, the company had to sell off a few assets...and abandon some too.

Locals avoided it, so naturally it was the perfect place to do the less than legal things.

He was a little late, so by the time he was speed walking up to the meet point, Meredy was already motioning to a large, unmarked truck to line up with the loading zone. She flashed him a smile, one that never failed to set his heart aflutter, before returning her focus back to the task at hand.

Lyon had just enough time to sidle up to her side, assuring that the warehouse doors were accessible as the truck screeched to a stop. If he had to guess, the left rear axle was needing some serious diagnostics, but that wasn’t his job to care.

Before his sweet Meredy could open her mouth to finally greet him, the door to the truck started unfurling, metal sheets clanking as they rolled up to the top.

Then, Lyon laid his eyes on something as pretty as a heap of stinking garbage.

“Lyon. Meredy.” The man greeted coolly as he kicked out the ramp, steadying it on the loading dock before making his way across the gap. “I see not much has changed around these parts, then.”

“Kageyama.” he said just as icily, pasting on what could only be a leather-like smile. Maybe the corner of his lips started cracking. “Still you, I see.”

Meredy shot him a look out of the extreme peripheral of her eyes, her lips pursed. Ah, right. Manners.

Kageyama threw his head back with a bark of a laugh, no humor behind it at all. “Just as well. I’m only in town to clean up Erigor’s mess and then I’ll be out of your hair.” He kicked at a chock with the point of his shoe, watching the pyramid bounce away and fall down through the gap of the loading dock. “Getting arrested and all. His shit still needs to be shipped.”

“A minor setback, of course.” Meredy spoke finally, tossing her hair and turning to the warehouse door. The lock had already been disposed of, the metal shears left abandoned in the corner. With a dainty kneel, she grasped the handle and lifted with her knees, raising the door up with all the upper body strength she had.

“Gotta like a woman that can bend and lift.” Kageyama mused, grinning wider when Lyon shot him a withering look. “Aw now, I ain’t stepping on your territory, man. Just admiring.”

“You treat her with respect, you-” Lyon began, baring his teeth just a little.

“Boys. I’d like to get home sometime today. Let’s go.” Meredy cut in, giving Lyon yet another meaningful look before turning to enter the dark warehouse, a chuckling Kageyama following behind her.

“Yes Ma’am.”

He waited until Kageyama was deep in the truck, adjusting boxes so that the goods wouldn’t get damaged in transit, before speaking to Meredy in low tones.

“You know I don’t like when you’re disrespected.”

She flashed him a gentle smile, one usually reserved for him in private moments. His breath hitched and her eyes got just a little bit brighter.

“I know, babe. But we gotta keep it together. The Boss needs to keep a firm hold on his business or Mard’s gonna sweep us all out.” Her hands, soft and small, brushed his cheeks as gentle as a summer wind. “Play nice and we’ll be living the high life soon.”

Play nice. Her warning was clear. “Yeah, I got it. It’s kinda nice not having to fight Mard’s shitheads anymore. I get to do business on both turfs now that they came to a truce.”

She hummed, gathering more boxes in her arms. “Right. So, let’s get this truck gone by nightfall, hm?”

He couldn’t find the will to argue with her when she gave him that look. So, he put his head down and pushed, wishing more than anything to watch that truck drive off into the dusk and leave him alone with the one girl that could ever understand him...and a wad full of cash for his best behavior.

.

.

.

He felt he looked quite the part of insane, gazing up and down at the walls of his cell. His fingers were dusted white, as well as his palms. Of course, it wasn’t the white powder he was used to dealing with but when the guard on duty offered something occupy his time other than just singing annoying songs, he couldn’t resist adding substance to his planned insanity plea. 

The song that never ended was not a popular choice of tunes for the cops, he supposed.

Half the chalk was gone now, being replaced by repetitive games of tic-tac-toe scribbled all over the walls. He was losing to himself, 130 to 0 if his count was correct.

It was so dull here in his little corner of hell. He had half an urge to lay on the floor and draw out his chalk outline just for giggles. Or maybe imagine it as that pesky Redfox’s outline. That would be something too.

From the open spaces beyond his cell, a throat cleared, and Erigor, ever bored and curious, turned to glance behind him.

White hair fell like waves of silk from her head, her smile ever so sweet as she stood before his prison. The classic police uniform she sported was the same as the guard’s had been, but she wore it like one of those cheesy camera girl bits, her cap tilted to the side and her buttons undone near her throat.

He grinned at her, eyeing her from head to toe, focusing on the tray of food she held out.

“Angel.”

Her grin widened, her eyes fluttering. “Erigor. Good to see you, as always.” She knelt down, sliding the tray through the opening under the gate. “I brought extra. Lord knows they don’t feed anyone enough in this joint.” she mused with a cute giggle.

Erigor didn’t wait, snatching the tray and dragging it to him as he sat cross legged on the floor. A burger and fries, how nice, he thought as he started to smother the bun in mustard and ketchup from the packets provided.

“Thanks doll. Maybe you are good for something other than being the Boss’s hot piece of the week.” he barbed, biting into the burger and watching her reaction as he chewed.

Angel just smiled serenely, letting the insult slide off her back like water off feathers.

“Always such a gentleman, Erigor. I’m charmed.” She followed it up with a bat of her wrist playfully, eyes falling to his food. “Anyway, try the fries. I got em from Fred’s, unsalted of course to make sure they were as fresh as possible. You got salt there to your right.”

Erigor grinned like a cat got the cream kind of way, snatching the salt and practically dumping the whole shaker over the fries. “Thanks. I haven’t eaten all damn day!”

For once, Angel cringed, still watching him from her kneeling position. “You know, too much salt can kill you one day. Maybe you should cut back your consumption a little?”

To reply, Erigor met her eyes and dumped even more salt on his fries before shoveling them into his mouth. She rolled her eyes and sighed.

He was halfway through his burger when something made him freeze mid-chew. His mouth felt dry, his cheeks hot and puffy. With wide, horrified eyes, he stared at Angel, who was smiling gently.

“What? Don’t like tomato?” she asked, watching his now pale face in interest.

Erigor didn’t reply, instead spitting out the chewed mess and scrambling for the bottle of water, chugging noisily. Then, he dropped it and curled on his hands and knees, dry heaving and sobbing. After moments of failure, he dug his fingers into his mouth, reaching for the back of his throat.

“I told you, didn’t I? Too much salt can kill you.” Angel said, still kneeling just outside the cell, watching his every move with calculation. “Although, that wasn’t just salt but really, all I know how to do is spread my legs, right?”

Erigor wheezed, panic aiding in his failure to retch. “Why…?” he managed, losing strength in his limbs alarmingly fast. The sight of her was blurring, his head spinning like he had too much liquor.

She laughed brightly, as if he told her a joke. “He is not too pleased with you, Erigor. Plus, you might squeal to the cops and he can’t risk that, can he?”

He started to convulse, gasping and grunting as his fingers scrambled for the tray. His eyes were rolling to the back of his head, making him more like a grotesque fish out of water than a man.

“Keyes is going to make this look like a natural death and you will be laid to rest like a dog in a backyard. How is that for your so called ‘greatness’?” Angel added, her smile twisting into the cruel gleam he knew was beneath it. So that was how she got her nickname.

He choked on his answer, drool and foam oozing from his dry lips as his body finally collapsed to the floor.

“Remember my name as you pass, Erigor. Angel of Death. I'd love to stay but I have more important things to do than watch you die, you know. Ciao.”

He can’t see, so he isn’t sure if she’s actually gone, but he reached out anyway, dragging his fingers through the smears of mustard and ketchup.

He can’t feel his body anymore, so he isn’t sure if he’s making it clear enough, but he tried anyway, dragging his fingers along the concrete floor.

His eyes rolled back, his last breath like a series of knives in his throat. He stared on, hoping his effort wasn’t wasted as his pulsing ears hear the calls of others echoing all around him.

“Help! Detention Ward!”

With his final moment ticking by, Erigor stared at his ketchup and mustard stained fingers, the colorful ‘AoD’ he scrawled just beyond his vision.

With that, Erigor died, surrounded by nobody on the cold floor of Magnolia’s second district county jail.